Dragon Age: Black Warden
by beanball
Summary: The sequel to Orbs of Arastani. The Warden and his witch try to make a life together, but the Order of Blood and Silas, a former protege of The Warden, have other ideas. Can The Warden stop this new cult before its grasp spreads to all of Ferelden?
1. Chapter 1

Foreword:

Well, here we are again. I honestly never pictured myself writing a sequel, yet here it is. When I first started writing Orbs of Arastani it was mainly to clear my head. I never intended on posting it anywhere. But as I browsed the internet I began to see many who played Dragon Age also hated the ending. So I began to post my story and slowly it became what it is now. A lot of people really seemed to like it. So much so that I'm caving to the sequel requests. Okay, I admit it. I'm really looking forward to writing this as well. Funny thing for a guy who never wrote anything before. It's great therapy, I find.

This time around I'm going to get a bit more risky. Maybe a bit darker as well, we'll see. I made a conscious decision with OA to avoid as much of the mushy stuff as I could, trying instead to focus more on Morrigan's growth through her actions and realizations, rather than what was said between her and The Warden. Expect Black Warden to be a bit spicier and....ugh..._mushier_. The high's will be higher, but the low's will most definitely be lower.

Admittedly, I have never played the expansion, Awakening, and I can't see where I will. There's no Morrigan, so there's no point. For those who have played it and find things in this story that contradict the events of Awakening, I apologize. I will do my best to avoid any such instances since both OA and Black Warden take place after Awakening. If I ever do get around to playing the expansion, I will most definitely adjust the stories as needed. Alright, enough of my rambling. Time to get to what you came for. I sincerely hope you enjoy Black Warden.

Dragon Age:

Black Warden

Part I

Ferelden is a land that has seen little peace in its long history. Each century is marked with its own unique tale of plague,war,and death. From the Exalted Marches carried out by the Chantry, whose goal it is to purge all heathens from the land, spilling much blood in the process, to the periodic blights, whereby Ferelden is set upon by hordes of the vile beasts known as darkspawn. Ferelden is repeatedly in a state of violence. Barely thirty years earlier the Orlisian invaders, who had ruled for a century, were finally expelled. This was, of course, followed by yet another blight.

For the time being, at least, there was peace. The rebuilding efforts needed after the last Blight swept across Ferelden were nearly complete. The Grey Wardens had a new headquarters in Amaranthine at Vigil's Keep and had begun the slow task of filling their ranks with recruits. The Warden had stepped down as Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden to help Alistair in the rebuilding and to address personal matters. Matters involving a certain raven-haired witch.

She had left after the archdemon was slain. And as soon as he was able to, he went after her. It took him months of searching, but he finally found her hiding out in a particularly treacherous part of the Bracillian Forest. But even then they would not know peace as Morrigan's mother, Flemeth, made her return. The manipulative hag nearly destroyed them in her mad quest to free the old god, Urthemiel.

But the days of blights and shape-changing demons were behind The Warden. At long last he and his witch would live out their days in the shadow of a Visparis Oak that grew by a bend in a small river near Castle Cousland in Highever. The unfinished cottage that Flemeth had smashed had been rebuilt and was nearly complete. All that was lacking was the interior furnishings. At the witch's request, he had scaled down the size of their home from before, making it more of a cottage and less of a manor. Still, there would be plenty of room. The Warden greatly looked forward to retiring his blades and settling down.

Unknown to The Warden, however, storm clouds were gathering on the far horizon. A foe greater than any he had faced before loomed in the distance. In the coming days, both he and his witch would be tested. Sadly, those who pair against the wishes of the gods must often face such hurdles.

The dark purple satin easily slid through Morrigan's hands as she inspected it. The fabric had been cut into a long ribbon some twenty feet in length and nearly six inches wide. Small gold embroidery had been stitched along the borders. This ribbon would join several dozen others of purple, white, and blue, that already hung from the ceiling in the main hall of Castle Cousland.

Large silver vases, holding rare and exotic flowers, were being arranged and placed in predetermined locations, their aroma filling the entire hall. The long table that usually sat in the center of the room had been removed and replaced with several rows of chairs to accommodate many guests, separated down the middle by an aisle covered in a rich red carpet.

There was hardly any time left to make sure everything was ready. And while Leliana had assured the witch that all would be perfect, Morrigan had severe doubts. This wasn't just any event they were planning, it was a wedding. Morrigan's wedding to be exact. And so far nothing had gone right at all.

"Leliana..." the witch said as she walked over to the bard and held the satin up for inspection, "do you not see this? The stitching is uneven. This shall not do. Send it back."

"You sent back the last six orders. You're going to have to pick something, otherwise there won't be any fabric left in Ferelden."

"'Tis not my concern. If there is no seamstress in Ferelden who can stitch a straight line then we shall have to look elsewhere."

"You can't be serious." the bard replied, turning to the witch to give her full attention. "It would take more than a month to get that much satin from Orlais or Antiva. You're getting married in just over a week, there simply isn't enough time."

The witch held the cloth in her hand, casting an evil eye at it. After a moment her expression changed to one of relent. "Very well, this will do." she said with a sigh.

"Everything will be just fine. You'll see." The bard consoled. "You worry too much and that isn't good for you."

"Were it your wedding, would you not do the same as I?"

"You set fire to the poor tailor's trousers!" Leliana exclaimed, reminding the witch.

"Twas but a small spark. He deserved far greater, I assure you." Morrigan quipped.

"Because he made a small mistake on your gown?"

"He should not proclaim himself 'The best tailor in Ferelden' if he is not. He was an arrogant fool and nothing more. We are rid of him and better for it."

"So I guess we'll have to make do with the second best tailor in Ferelden." Leliana said with a smirk. "Which reminds me, the chef will have more samples of the dishes he's preparing. Please try to pick something. Anything. And don't yell at the poor man this time. He's skittish around you enough as it is."

"What makes you think I will yell at him?" the witch asked, almost shocked Leliana would say such a thing.

"Last time you said, and I quote, 'he was an insipid little nothing of a man whose mother should eternally beg forgiveness for having birthed such a wretched creature'."

"Ah...I did at that." Morrigan meekly agreed.

"Maybe I'd better go with you this time."

"Later. Now there is an appointment I must keep." the witch said as she turned and placed the purple fabric on the table next to her her. "I shall meet with you when I return."

The loud clanging of swords striking against each other echoed through the trees of a small clump of forest that sprouted up along the countryside of Highever. Inside a clearing within the woods, The Warden was as he could often be found, engaging an opponent in swordplay. Sweat glistened on his brow and a broad smile was on his face. The combatant he faced was clearly of far inferior skill with a blade. Still, he made no attempts at a killing blow, instead choosing to study and observe his opponent as they fought their way around the clearing.

He would intentionally leave himself open to attack, only to elude his assailant at the last second and approach from a different angle, flanking his startled opponent and administering a quick whack on the backside with the flat of his blade. With a blood-curdling scream of rage, his foe charged in for the kill. The Warden simply stepped back, hooked his blade between hand and handle, and deftly deprived his opponent of a weapon.

Just after stumbling to the ground, a woman's yell of anger erupted from underneath the helmet of his adversary. With a quick flip of her hand, Morrigan flung the metal helmet off her head, which landed on the ground with a loud "clank!".

"You are really beginning to piss me off!" She hissed at The Warden. "You are aware of this, are you not?"

"Hey, you're the one who said don't go easy on you." he answered back, trying to sound as innocent as he possibly could. "Sometimes your opponent will try to get you angry. You have to learn how to use that to your advantage instead of letting it make you reckless."

"Yes...'tis as you've said before." the witch muttered with a sigh as she took his outstretched arm and allowed him to pull her up.

Placing his arms around her waist, he looked at her and said, "You need to learn how to control that temper of yours."

"My temper..." she paused, sliding her arms seductively over The Warden's shoulders, staring deeply into his eyes, "my temper is entirely under control."

"Uh-huh. Is that so?" he asked, cocking his head and raising an eyebrow at her.

"Mm-Hmm." she purred in return as she moved her lips closer to his, hoping he would take the not-so-subtle hint.

"You little minx." he said as a wry grin crept across his face.

He, of course, obliged the witch. Pressing his lips against hers. Lightly at first, almost like small nibbles of her, then deeply and passionately as his lips drank of her. His hands clasped, tightly squeezing the fleshy cheeks of her posterior, and lifted her up to him, her legs wrapping around him.

He leaned her up against a tree as his mouth continued to ravage her, behind her ears, down her long neck, and down between her breasts. She writhed in ecstasy beneath his skilled touch, unable to speak, save for the moans that escaped her, until at long last she was finally able to form a single word. "Dwemer..." she moaned.

"Hmm?" he mumbled as his mouth continued to work it's magic on her body.

"Dwemer...we must..._oh that feels so good_...we must...stop." the witch was finally able to say.

"Stop?" he muttered as he drifted lower with his soft kisses, "Why?"

She grabbed the sides of his head and pulled his gaze up to hers. "I must still choose which meal is to be served at the wedding."

"Can't you do that later?"

"I've put it off long enough. Leliana no doubt waits for me in the kitchen even now. I would prefer that my knickers not be soggy while making such a choice."

"So, don't wear any." he teased.

"I am quite sure you would enjoy that to no end." she said, grinning slyly at him.

Soon it became clear to him from the look in her eyes that he had indeed gotten as far as he would get this round. "Alright, I guess I can wait until later." he whined with disappointment in his eyes.

"Until tonight, my love." she said as she caressed his face with her hand and placed a tender kiss on his cheek before departing back to the castle. He stood there awhile and watched her for as long as she was in his sight. It was something he often did. He would think about her being the woman he would spend the rest of his life with, that in just a few short days they would be married. And that's when the chill would run down his spine.

While The Warden greatly looked forward to spending his life with Morrigan, at the same time thought of being her husband petrified him. Would he even be able to be what she desired in a husband? Would he be able to live up to what his own expectation of what proper husband should be? These questions gnawed at him constantly, more so the closer to the fateful day he got. Maybe it was time to have a talk with Fergus, before the anxiety threatened to completely destroy his nerves.

"It's about time you got here." Leliana said to Morrigan as she entered the castle's large kitchen. "I've been waiting here for over half an hour."

"My apologies. My appointment kept me longer than expected." the witch offered in reply.

Before them were several plates laid out on a large table. Each of the plates contained a separate dish from which the witch could chose for her wedding feast. The pair sampled each of the chef's offerings, making comments on them, until Morrigan had at last found the dish she desired most, noting that it was by far the best of the bunch.

She inquired to the chef what the dish was named and what it's ingredients were as she continued to sample the tasty dish. The chef informed her that the dish was called a Merlan's Tart after the small tavern in Highever that first served them. It was comprised of lamb wrapped in a flatbread and seasoned with parsley and sage. A small dash of Antivan Gitonia cheese is then crumbled over the top...

"Cheese....?" the witch said, interrupting the chef's detailed explanation. "Oh, dear."

"Is that a problem?" Leliana asked, puzzled by the sudden change in the witch's demeanor.

"I do not wish to discuss it. 'Tis enough to say that I may not eat cheese." Morrigan answered as she turned to hastily leave the kitchen. "I choose that dish, without the cheese." she said as she passed through the doorway and into the corridor, headed for her and The Warden's personal chambers.

"Without the cheese?" the chef asked in dismay, "that is what makes the entire dish!"

"I will talk to her." Leliana said, trying to sooth the agitated man.

Upon reaching her chambers, Morrigan began quickly searching through her belongings. Rushing from shelf to shelf until, at last, she found what she was looking for. She grabbed a small clear vial from the wooden shelf that hung on the wall. A wooden cork sealed a dark green herb inside.

Gripping the cork in her teeth, the witch unstopped the bottle with a quick tug and spat the cork out on the floor in her haste. Her slender fingers reached into the bottle and snatched the herb from within and quickly tossing it into a mortar. With her other hand, Morrigan picked the pestle from the table and began grinding the herb into a pulp. She snatched another small vial from the shelf, this one containing a yellowish powder, and carefully pulled the cork. With a small tilt of the bottle, she added a few sprinkles of the powder before replacing the cork and setting the vial back in its spot. After adding a bit of water, the witch continued to grind the mixture until it was finally to her liking.

Morrigan poured the contents from the mortar into a cup, and with a fierce grimace, tipped the cup and hastily guzzled the liquid contained within. She held the back of her hand over her mouth, trying desperately to keep the disgusting concoction down. Finally, after a few uncertain moments, the witch was able to exhale. The medicine was absolutely terrible, but it was still far better than the alternative.

Until very recently, Morrigan had never heard of cheese, or dairy products of any kind for that matter. "Do you recall seeing many cattle in the wilds.", she had said to The Warden when he first teased her about it. And cheese, being the funny thing that it is, has a way of letting a person know when they don't have the stomach for it. Literally. The witch found her insides would react violently whenever she had even a small amount of dairy. Apparently, dairy was something that one either consumed their entire life or not at all.

She stood in front of the tall mirror, examining her rumbling belly. Painful shards wracked her guts, making her wince. With luck, the medicine would soon be calming the storm that was brewing in her stomach. Until then, she would have to ride out wave upon wave of searing pain.

Behind Morrigan, there was the loud sound of The Warden making his entrance to their quarters. She could hear his footsteps getting ever closer to her and she braced herself for the inevitable. And, just as she predicted, she soon felt him press against her back, his arms reaching around her and squeezing her closer to him.

"That is unwise." she cautioned.

"Why?" he asked, continuing his embrace while placing a soft kiss on the back of her neck, "Don't I at least get a kiss?"

His answer came in the form of a low rumbling noise that emanated from between them. The raspberry sound lasted several seconds and varied in pitch from low to high before weakly dying out.

"Oh..." he said, stunned, "that wasn't quite the kiss I had in mind."

"I _tried_ to warn you!" Morrigan exclaimed through her embarrassed giggling, her cheeks turning bright red.

"And next time, I'll listen."

"Do not tease! There was cheese in one of the dishes I sampled." the witch replied, attempting to defend herself.

"You can't have cheese. You know what it does to you." he said, stating the obvious.

"Twas not on purpose. I was unaware the dish contained it."

"I guess that's something I should mention to the chef." The Warden admitted.

"That would be best, I think." Morrigan agreed. "In the meantime I am off to fetch Seth from the nanny."

"Do you feel up to it? I can go get him if you want."

"Thank you, my sweet. That shall not be necessary. The medicine I took is taking effect and I feel much better."

"Alright, If you say so."

The Teyrn of Highever, Fergus Cousland, had sent word to his brother to meet with him in the large study in the east wing of the castle. He made sure that the messenger told The Warden that the matter was of some urgency. And when he arrived, The Warden found his brother sitting in a large leather chair near the fire.

"King Alistair will be here in the morning from Denerim." Fergus said noticing his brother's approach.

"He's early. The wedding isn't for more than a week yet." The Warden replied.

"I'm afraid that's not why he'll be here." the teyrn said, looking up at The Warden, "apparently he brings some bad news concerning a friend."

"Bad news about a friend? What does that mean?" The Warden asked, both confused and curious.

"I don't know. That's all the messenger said. You can ask the king when he gets here." Fergus said as his eyes shifted to the fire, "In the meantime I've got not only a wedding to host but royal accommodations to plan for."

"I really appreciate you letting us use the castle to host the wedding."

"You're still a Cousland, Grey Warden or not." Fergus returned, "Where else would you get married? Now go be with that woman of yours and give my nephew a hug from his uncle."

"Thanks, Fergus." The Warden said with a wave as he exited the study.

Failing to find Morrigan in their chambers, The Warden checked where he figured she was next most likely to be, the castle library. And, not surprisingly, the witch was there, sitting at one of the large wooden tables near the center of the hall pouring over large volumes while Seth meandered between his mother and Leo, the large mabari warhound who was laying on the floor.

The Warden paused to watch his son as Seth's toddler-steps took the child shakily from one place to the next on an endless path of discovery. The child was over a year old now and turning into quite a handful for his parents. Everything Seth touched was something to be explored, and then discarded, while he moved on to the next object that drew his fascination.

"Puppy!" the child would yell, attempting to get the mabari's attention. "Puppy! Book!" he shouted, gleefully holding out his discovery for Leo to see. The dog, after giving a brief sniff, rest his head back on the floor.

"Mom'er!" the child said as he patted the witch's leg, "Mom'er! Book!"

Seth referrence to Morrigan as "Mom'er" was not something the witch especially cared for. She had hoped he would call her "mother", but he was still very much in the early stages of speech and mom'er was the result of his efforts. The Warden considered in quite endearing. Although, he knew better than to tease the witch about it.

"Yes, Seth, dear. 'Tis a book." the witch said, taking a painfully long time in the child's eyes to acknowledge.

"What are you doing?" The Warden finally asked, fully entering the room.

With a gleeful squeal, the toddler ran to his father, wrapping his tiny arms around The Warden's leg in the largest hug the child could muster. The Warden reached down and scooped Seth up into his arms, saying, "There's my big man." as he did.

"Book!" Seth exclaimed with excitement as he pointed to the various books he had strewn about the floor.

"What are you reading?" The Warden asked again as he attempted to look over Morrigan's shoulder to get a better look.

"'Tis a listing of birth records." She replied, "Herein lies the names of all those born in Highever Teyrnir."

"Ah..." he uttered, realizing. "You're looking up your family again."

"Yes." she confirmed, her nose still buried in the book.

"Why don't you just go meet them. I know the tavern that Wynne spoke of in her letter."

"Do not be absurd. I am sure they have little desire to make my acquaintance after all these years, and still less to offer me for my effort."

"Tell yourself whatever you want. I think your afraid to meet them."

Her eyes shot up at him, casting a glare that cut straight into his soul. A glare that said _You had best choose your next words very carefully, lest the sight of your own blood pleases you_. After a moment her fierce stare melted and the witch let her true face show through. "Of course I would be terrified to meet them. These are people whom I have never met yet are a part of who I am. I bare no shame for my actions, but how approving of me could they possibly be? No...I think 'tis best if we keep our distance from each other. Let them go on believing whatever lie it is they choose to."

"But they're your family." he said, trying to convince her.

"As you have stated, I already have a family." she returned.

"Don't they at least deserve to know that your alive? What if something like that happened to Seth..."

"Silence!" the witch huffed not liking where the conversation was going.

"Still my point is valid. You would do anything to know your son was safe."

Morrigan bowed her head with a sigh. "We shall see. I will think on it."

"That's all I'm asking."

Trumpeters outside, in the courtyard, heralded to arrival of the king the following morning. Twelve people covered in shiny metal armor rode their steeds through the castle gate. The king, joined by his newly promoted captain, Dyana, along with ten of the king's best cavalrymen all rode up to the main steps of the castle. Pulling back on the reigns and bringing his horse to a stop, Alistair, clad in his golden armor, dismounted his steed and greeted The Warden and Fergus with an outstretched hand.

"You're early arrival was unexpected, Your Majesty." Fergus said as he clasped the king's hand in greeting.

"I've got some bad news, I'm afraid." Alistair replied as he turned to face The Warden.

"What kind of bad news?" The Warden questioned seeing the look on his friend's face becoming saddened

"Wynne's sick, Dwemer." the king answered, "She's dying."

"Where did you hear this? Are you sure?" The Warden asked shocked.

"I was just at Circle Tower, to see if I could get her to come to the wedding. But she can't because she's sick. Whatever spirit was keeping her alive has decided her time is up." the king explained, having a hard time keeping his composure. "She doesn't have long and she asked to see you, Leliana, and Morrigan before she...you know...she.."

"I know, Alistair." The Warden said, trying to console his friend. "Of course we'll go to Circle Tower. We owe her at least as much."


	2. Chapter 2

**Part II**

The trip from Highever to Lake Calenhad was not a long one. Less than a day to be sure. Still, considering the nature of the visit, and its location, Morrigan and The Warden thought it best to leave Seth in the care of his uncle while they were away. The Warden figured the trip to be a dreary ride, not a place fit for a toddler. While Morrigan was more concerned with taking her child near Circle Tower. The very idea of it nearly sent her into a panic. One day Seth would reveal his magical talents and would be expected to assume his place alongside the other apprentices at the tower. Unless, of course, Morrigan was able to derail those plans. Which she fully intended to do. Until that time, however, the witch thought it best to keep her son's contact with the Circle of Magi to a minimum.

So, the pair left their son behind, while the child screamed and cried large, dramatic tears. The Warden and his witch exchanged glances with each other that said _we are the worst parents ever_, as the cries of the child tugged heavily on their hearts. Fergus did his best to comfort the tot, but to no avail as Seth continued his tantrum until after his parents had disappeared from view. As soon as he noticed they were gone, Seth immediately stopped his fussing and ran up to his uncle. Sniffling a few times, he yelled "Puppy!" as he tugged on Fergus' pant leg.

"You little scoundrel." the teyrn chuckled, "Alright, you want to see the kennels?"

Seth clapped and hopped, "Puppy!" he shouted again.

The sun was high in the sky and a warm breeze blew as the group readied to depart Highever. If the weather held up the entire way, they could reach Circle Tower by nightfall. They were in a hurry and needed to make the journey as quickly as possible, So, in the courtyard, Fifteen bridled horses awaited the king and his company, a steed for each of them.

"I have no need of a horse." Morrigan stated, waving off the servant trying to hand her some reigns.

Lifting the visor from her helm, Dyana looked at the witch and asked, "Do you plan on walking the whole way? In case you haven't noticed, we're kind of in a hurry, here."

"Temperamental _and_ shortsighted." the witch replied with a small grin, looking up at the king , "My, Alistair, you have chosen well."

"That's enough, captain." Alistair ordered. "You'll quickly find that Morrigan is a...unique...sort of woman. Best stay out of her way."

There was a bright flash of light as Morrigan was replaced by a tiny sparrow that fluttered from the ground and perched atop The Warden's shoulder, chirping loudly at the king.

With a loud, "Hmmmph!" Captain Dyana lowered her visor once again.

And, indeed, the weather did hold and the party found themselves beneath the tall stone spires of Circle Tower just as the sun began to set against the horizon. The mages they encountered were somber and silent, as they crossed the causeway heading towards the tower. The whole area seemed hushed and quiet and a melancholy feeling hung in the air like a thick fog. The closer they got to the tower, the stronger the feeling became.

"Dyana, you and the rest of the men will wait here. I'll try not to be long." Alistair said to his captain as they neared the main door.

"I don't think that's a wise idea, Your Majesty." she pleaded, leaning close to his ear and whispering, "You are in the company of a known maleficarum."

"Morrigan?" Alistair responded with a confused look. "There's nothing for you to be concerned about. Don't worry about Morrigan. You have your orders, captain."

"As you wish, Your Majesty." Dyana said with a slight bow.

Alistair, The Warden, Morrigan, and Leliana all approached the main door to the tower. It seemed as if every eye present was fixed on them as they walked up the stone pathway and stood before the entrance.

"We've come to see Enchanter Wynne." Alistair said to the templar guarding the entrance.

"Of course, Your Majesty." The templar replied as he swung the door open for the king and his companions.

The party passed through the archway and into the tower and found their way to the second floor, where the senior mages chambers were. After making the long circle around from the stairs to the door to Wynne's quarters, the group was met by a young mage standing beside the door. The Warden recognized her as Nirfil. The young mage had apparently gone through her Harrowing since she no longer wore the robes of an apprentice.

"Nirfil, It's good to see you, again." The Warden said to the mage.

The girl became flushed and giggled, saying, "I'm flattered that you remember me, Warden."

"Indeed." Morrigan injected, her hands finding their familiar place on her hips.

"I wish the circumstances were different. But its good to see you, too." Nirfil said, turning to the witch, "And you must be Morrigan. He's told me all about you."

"He has, has he?" the witch inquired, her stare getting ever stronger.

"Oh, yes. All I ever heard was Morrigan this and Morrigan that. He never stopped going on about how perfect you are."

"And if he knows what is good for him, 'twill be the only thing he says about me." the witch quipped focusing her glare on The Warden.

"Why do you stare?" she asked him.

"It's nothing." he answered as if coming out of some sort of daze.

"Please, I've kept you long enough. Enchanter Wynne is expecting you." Nirfil said, opening the door and ushering the group inside.

The old mage, Wynne looked out at the world through tired eyes. She lay in her bed, as she had since she collapsed in the middle of a lecture to some of the apprentices almost a week ago. She knew in her heart that she would never again leave the comfort of her bed. Not that the old mage minded, she wasn't afraid of dying and she held no regrets from her life. She had always felt she experienced far more joy in life than was her fair share. But at long last, her job was finished and she could finally look forward to the rest that she had earned.

And while she had never had any children, there were three young people who were very special to her. They meant as much to her as if they were her own offspring. The three had all lost their parents and had adopted her as their mother-figure. Wynne didn't mind. It gave her a chance to pass on some of her wisdom when they sought her guidance, and mostly they listened.

The main exception being Dwemer. The old mage had confronted him on his foolishness in coupling with the apostate, Morrigan. No matter what logic or reason she offered him, he failed to heed her advice and continued their unholy union. But after a time it became clear that their romance was no casual fling. Even the witch was unable to conceal that her feelings were genuine. Wynne recanted her objections to The Warden, noting that even amidst the darkness and death of the Blight, love could still bloom.

"Wynne..." a voice said to her, bringing the old mage's focus back to the here and now.

"Dwemer!" she exclaimed joyfully upon seeing The Warden, reaching her arms out to him and embraced him, patting her hands against his back.

"Alistair, Leliana, it's so good to see both of you." the mage said, as each bent to hug her in turn.

"Morrigan..." Wynne said flatly, acknowledging the witch who stood at the back of the room, her arms folded and leaning against the stone wall.

"Alistair said you wanted to see us. What about?" The Warden asked as he sat next to the mage as she lay in her bed.

"Why, to tell you goodbye, of course." Wynne answered as she placed her hand on his.

"Don't say that, Wynne..." Alistair said, on the verge of tears, "You're going to be fine. You'll be up and walking around again in no time."

"No, Alistair. I won't be. Not this time, I'm afraid." the old mage replied, reaching her hand out to the king, who walked over and grasped it, "That's why I've asked you all here. To tell you not to let this sadden you. You have to let go, Alistair. Don't let my passing bring you sorrow, instead think of it as well earned rest after a complete life." Wynne paused to look at all three before her in the eye, "My friends. My dear, dear friends who are as cherished to me as any family, You have brought so much happiness to my life and shown me things I never dreamed possible. Cherish your time here and live well. Take care of each other."

"Leliana..." Wynne said to the bard, who had turned her head away to conceal her tears, "You were such a frightened girl when we first met. Always afraid your past life would find you. But look at you now. So strong and brave. You learned how to face those fears and overcame the very things that haunted you."

Morrigan closely observed from her place against the wall. On the outside she feigned disinterest, inside she was quite moved and felt sorrow for the three gathered around the old mage's bed. The Warden, still possessing the internal beacon that connected him to his witch, was aware of Morrigan's true feelings and looked at her with a smile. Morrigan's lips instantly pursed and her eyebrows scrunched downward in a glare that said _do not mock me_!

"Alistair..." the elder mage continued, facing the king as she spoke, "Dear, Alistair. It is you that I am most afraid to leave behind. You, more than the others, have grown before my eyes. Your childlike innocence was always refreshing to these old ears. You've come so far in such a short time. I have no doubt you will truly be a great king. You're already well on your way." she said and she patted his hand. Alistiar, unable to contain his grief any longer, slowly slipped away to another corner of the room in order to regain his composure.

"And you know I could never leave you out, Dwemer. The man I am most proud of." Wynne began, "It is your destiny alone to shoulder the weight and the burdens of this world. It was a task you never asked for, nor were you prepared for, but you fulfilled your duties without complaint, going beyond what was expected of you time and again for the sake of others and asking no reward in return. You are the epitome of what it means to be a Grey Warden. And now your are blessed with the duties of parenthood. Bryce Cousland was a good man and raised his son well. And you, no doubt, will do the same."

The old enchanter, visibly growing weaker, held her arms out to all three of them, "I love you all so very much. Thank you for having been in my life."

"Shh. You need your rest." The Warden said.

"I shall be doing plenty of resting soon enough." The old mage replied, her voice getting ever weaker. "First, I must speak with Morrigan alone."

"You wish to speak with me?" the witch asked, shocked.

The Warden, Leliana, and Alistair all left the room, leaving the two mages alone together. And while Morrigan accepted the fact that her warden viewed the old mage as a mother-figure, it was a mother who didn't approve of her son's choice in women. Wynne and made it abundantly clear to the witch on numerous occasions that she disapproved of Morrigan and in the end she would only serve to corrupt The Warden. The old mage had even referred to the witch as "a completely evil and vile woman whose cunning makes her capable of anything." And above all, Morrigan certainly wasn't to be trusted, the old mage felt.

"There are things I need to tell you, Morrigan. Come, sit." Wynne said as she gestured to a chair beside the bed, which Morrigan sat in. "You and Dwemer will be married very soon. And I am happy for you both. I truly am. You are capable of great caring, Morrigan. I know because I've seen how much you care for him. His life is not meant to be an easy one. You will both face many obstacles and challenges. Stand by him. Especially when things are the worst, that's when he'll need you the most."

"I will stand by him." Morrigan said.

"We've certainly had our share of differences, that's for sure." Wynne recalled, chuckling a bit, "But I know you will make Dwemer happy, and in the end, that's all that really matters. All I ask is that you be as honest and true to him as he is to you. Make him a good wife, Morrigan."

"I shall." the witch muttered softly.

"Out there in the corridor is a good man. A man who will take care of you and make you happy. Promise me you'll make him a good wife." The old mage struggled to say.

The witch's eyes dropped and her gaze fell away from the elder mage, "I promise." she muttered.

"I've come to realize...you're a lot better person than I gave you credit for." Wynne said, starting to sound very weak. Her breathing starting to become labored. "It seems...that I ...am leaving him ...in...good hands."

Their eyes met briefly, but in that short time an understanding was gained between the two women. The witch could see the genuine concern Wynne had over The Warden's well-being, and the old mage knew at last where Morrigan's heart truly lie. A contented smile grew on Wynne's face as her weary eyes began to close.

"Now...now I must rest. Close my eyes and leave...this...world...behind..." were that last words Morrigan heard the old mage say as the breath of life left her and she calmly closed her eyes. Her face was one of peace and contentment.

"Go to your Maker, old woman. May you be at peace." Morrigan said, bending over to plant a small kiss on the old mage's forehead.

The witch slowly rose from the chair and turned towards the door. She cast her gaze at Wynne one final time before grabbing the small metal ring, opening the door, and leaving the room. Out in the corridor The Warden, Alistair and Leliana all comforted each other. Alistair was in particular, having a hard time with things. When the trio spotted Morrigan they all fell silent, their stares cutting right through her.

"She has passed." the witch informed, the news causing Alistair to break into a sob. Neither were the eyes of Leliana nor The Warden dry.

Morrigan wrapped her arms around The Warden, "I am sorry for your loss, my love."

"She will be greatly missed." Leliana said as she consoled Alistair with a hug.

* * *

As per Wynne's wishes, a large funeral pyre was built on the tower grounds. Her body was laid across the pyre, adorned in her Senior Enchanter's Robe and her hands folded around her long staff. The inhabitants of the tower, mage and templar alike, gathered and payed their respects to Wynne in a long procession. And when all had said their goodbyes, Alistair was asked to say a few words.

The king was barely able to contain himself as he stood before the gathering. "Wynne was one of the most special people I ever knew. I relied on her quiet strength more times than I care to count." he said, choking up from time to time, "She was much more than just a friend. She was the voice of my conscience when I didn't want to hear it, but needed to. She was my courage when I didn't think I could succeed. She'll be remembered as a Hero of Ferelden for her part in saving Circle Tower and the Blight. But she was my hero as well, and I'll miss her terribly."

As the king stepped away from the large pyre, several apprentices stuck their torches into the mass of wood, setting it ablaze. The fire quickly grew until it consumed the entire pyre in a blistering inferno. The Warden, Alistair, Leliana and Morrigan all watched the fire as it burned, lighting up the tower against the night. It raged for hours, as the friends recounted many tales of their time with the old mage, sharing laughter and tears until the first rays of dawn began to creep across the land and there was nothing left but smoldering embers. The Warden and his party gathered themselves and started the journey back towards Highever with heavy hearts.

The return trip was taken at a much more leisurely pace, and mostly in silence. As the horses slowly plodded along, their riders drooped in the saddle. The sky was clear and the weather was warm and beautiful, but most in the party failed to notice as they continued to grieve for the friend they had lost. The Warden tried his best to burn the image of the old mage into his memory forever. Her gentle smile and manner would forever be a part of him. Fortunately, Morrigan always had a way of taking his mind of his troubles.

"Why were you staring at that girl, Nirfil? You've taken a fancy to her, have you?" Morrigan said from behind The Warden as they shared a steed while she was in human form.

"Not at all." He answered, "There was just something odd about her."

"Odd? How so?"

"You'll think it's stupid."

"Would you prefer I think something else?" she said with an ominous tone.

"No." he moaned with a sigh, "It's just that Nirfil seemed to resemble you quite a lot. The shape of her eyes, her nose, even her mannerism are similar. It was strange."

"What joy! You have at last found my long lost sister!" Morrigan shouted in mock glee, "How strange that you should see members of my family in everyone you come across."

"I knew you'd think it was stupid." he grumbled.

"I apologize, my sweet." she said, giggling. "I do not think you stupid, merely naif, and guilty of no more than wishful thinking."

"So I take it you've been thinking about what we talked about, at least."

"And we are back to that again." Morrigan huffed, "Ride closer to Alistair and I shall show you what awaits me."

Doing as requested, The Warden spurred his horse and quickly caught up with the king who was riding next to Dyana near the front of the group. "Alistair, I would ask a question of you." the witch said when they had pulled alongside the king.

"What about?" The king asked as Dyana cast a watchful glare.

"It concerns your sister."

"Goldanna?" Alistairs surprised look indicating this was not a topic he expected to discuss, least of all with Morrigan. "What is it you wanted to know? I hardly even know her, really. The only time I've spoken to her is when she asked how much money me being king would get her. I honor my promise and see that she's looked after, but we don't speak."

"Precisely my point. Had you been aware that she was nothing more than a parasite, would you have done things differently? Do you not regret your decision to seek her out?"

"I thought about that, myself, for a while. And I realized that even though Goldanna wasn't exactly what I had pictured her to be, at least I found her. I didn't have to wonder about it anymore. So, to answer your question, no. I don't regret finding her one bit."

"I see..." Morrigan said, seeming to not get the answer she expected from the king.

"Not knowing is far worse than knowing could ever be, no matter how bad the truth really is." Alistair reiterated.

Once the group arrived back at Castle Cousland, they made an agreement to follow Wynne's wishes and not let her passing be a time of mourning. Instead they would remember her as the strong and confident woman they grew to love. The wedding would continue as planned as all agreed Wynne would have expected nothing less.

The party dismounted their steeds and made their way to the castle's large main door, Morrigan passing in front Dyana in the process. The captain continued to show her disdain for the witch by casting a steely glare at her from behind. Alistair, seeing this, grabbed his captain's arm and ushered her to the side to have a word in private whether she liked it or not.

"Alright, out with it." he said sternly to her.

Dyana's face scrunched up in confusion, "Your Majesty?" she asked.

"Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about." he snapped back. "You've done nothing but make remarks about Morrigan and give her those nasty looks. You haven't even tried to hide the fact of how much you dislike her. What I want to know is why? What could Morrigan have possibly done that made you hate her so much?"

"Alright, I'll admit it. I hate her." the captain answered shamelessly, "She is a _maleficar_! What was the Grand Cleric thinking? The Maker decrees she should have been destroyed like the monster she is, not given freedom to defile Ferelden as she sees fit. Who is Alyessa to question that? The Warden should be ashamed of himself."

"That _maleficar_ happens to be a friend of mine, and she's not nearly as bad as she seems. If not for her help we would have never stopped the blight. So I expect you to keep whatever personal feelings you have to yourself and stop giving Morrigan so much grief. Is that clear, Captain?"

"Perfectly clear, Your Majesty."

* * *

Despite how he felt about Wynne, The Warden's spirits quickly picked up once he arrived in the main hall to greet Fergus. He found a close friend who he had not seen in some time there waiting on him. It was Silas, the youngest member of the Grey Wardens. He and The Warden had become close after Silas, himself the son of a bann, lost both his parents in an attack by rogue blood mages who were fleeing the templars and sought asylum within his father's manor. All members of his family were slain. Only the templars' prudent timing saved Silas from the same fate.

Being only seventeen at the time, and with no place else to go, he ventured north to Amaranthine and Vigil's Keep to become a member of the illustrious Grey Wardens. While The Warden initially denied the boy's request to partake in the joining, he allowed Silas to remain at the compound, eventually becoming a mentor to the troubled lad.

Normally, potential initiates are much older than Silas was, usually in their late twenties or early thirties. With the taint's slow death over thirty years, there was little point in recruiting young initiates only to have them die while they were still young wardens. As Duncan had once said, "It is best to allow them to grow up a bit first."

But Silas displayed remarkable prowess with a blade, very nearly rivaling The Warden's own skill. And as the son of a lord, even at such a young age, he had already led his father's troops into battle on repeated occasions against bandits, rogue mages, and even the odd darkspawn. He quickly proved to be a capable commander and earned the respect of his men. But the youth could be cocky and arrogant at times. He had a quick temper which would often get the best of him. He had caused trouble on more than a few occasions and The Warden would have to sit him down and have a long talk about what was troubling him.

It was only after Silas risked his own life saving a young girl from two drunken mercenaries that The Warden finally agreed to allow Silas to partake in the joining. His heart was beating heavily in his chest as he watched the boy drink from the goblet. Silas writhed in agony for many long seconds, long enough that The Warden considered drawing his blade and ending the lad's suffering. Then the boy stopped moving altogether, sending a chill down The Warden's spine. But after a few seconds, Silas opened his eyes, blinked a few times then looked up at The Warden saying "That was it? I thought you said it was going to be bad."

The Warden helped the youth to his feet and playfully ruffled his hair saying, "Alright, tough guy." and causing Silas to laugh.

That was the last official act The Warden had performed as head of the order. Not long afterward, he stepped down in order to assist Alistair in rebuilding Ferelden. He remembered the look on Silas' face as he left Vigil's Keep. And, although the boy had sworn he wasn't angry, The Warden could tell he was disappointed. Now, after more than a year, Silas stood in front of him in the main hall still wearing the drakescale armor he was given by The Warden.

"Silas! It's great to see you!" The Warden exclaimed as he reached out and took the boy's hand, grasping it.

"I've missed you, too." Silas returned, placing his hand on The Warden's shoulder and giving a good squeeze.

"Are you here for the wedding? You're a bit early..."

"Unfortunately, no. I have business in Highever and I figured I stop by and look up an old friend while I was here."

"That's a shame. Hopefully you'll finish your business in time to attend."

"We'll see."

The Warden looked up to see his witch entering the hall. Silas, turning to see who The Warden was looking at said, "Oh wow. That's her, huh?" when he noticed Morrigan.

The Warden nodded.

"_Nice_." Silas replied, nodding his approval.

"I'm so glad you approve." The Warden quipped with a smirk.

The witch approached The Warden, wrapped her arm around his back and lifted herself up to plant a quick kiss on his lips in greeting. "Seth, no doubt, would like to see his parents."

"Seth? You have a child?" The boy asked, amazed. "You sure don't waste any time do you?" he said, laughing.

"Morrigan, I'd like you to meet, Silas. Silas, this is Morrigan." The Warden said, introducing the pair.

"The lad of whom you spoke so highly?" questioned the witch.

"That would be him." The Warden confirmed.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, madame, but as I told Dwemer, I have business elsewhere." Silas said to the witch with a bow, "Dwemer, I'll see you again soon." he finished with a wave as he walked out of the hall.

"Madame? Since when am I a 'madame'?" Morrigan asked looking up at The Warden with a perplexed expression on her face.

"Don't let it get to you. He's still young and to him anyone over twenty five is ancient." he said, attempting to comfort her.

The witch glanced around to the other people in the room, saying loudly, "Then 'tis good for me that I have yet to attain such an age."

"Yeah, right." The Warden mumbled through his snickering, drawing a sharp elbow to the ribs, courtesy of the witch.

"I had intended on telling you that I decided to seek out my family, however, since you insist on being an ass I believe I shall drop the matter entirely." she snapped, her arms folded.

"Don't do that. Look...I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to be mean."

"My looks shall fade soon enough and without those, what will I have?"

"You'll still have me."

"Still, I would prefer it if you would not announce to the entire world that I am an old woman."

"Don't be silly. You're not old. I don't know why you fuss about your age so much. You can't be any other age than what you are. And I have no doubt that even when the gray hair sets in I'll still find you to be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Gray hair?" The witch exclaimed in panic, "why would you even say such a thing?" she said as she ran over to a metal shield hanging from the wall and inspected her hair in the reflection.

"You don't have any. That's not what I meant." he groaned, exasperated, "You know what? Forget I said anything. How about we do that? I'm an idiot who never said anything."

The witch stopped, turned to face him with a large grin on her face, "You are simply adorable when you are flustered." she said, giggling.

He stopped for a minute, finally understanding that she had been playing him. "Ooh. That's cold." he said, returning her grin. "Alright, you got me back. We're even now."

Morrigan did indeed intend to seek out her family. Alistair had said that not knowing was the hard part, and the witch was inclined to agree. The temptation of knowing where she had come from pulled on her incessantly. She yearned to meet them, hoping that what both Leliana and The Warden had said was true, that families accepted its members as they were. The witch still found Ferelden to be strange and foreign to her much of the time and her actions could be viewed as out of place. That and she was sure there were no other apostates lurking in the family tree. What if they were devout members of the Chantry? Morrigan could think of many reasons why she shouldn't pursue the matter, but none of them were strong enough to keep her from seeking the answers she craved. So in the morning she would head into the village and visit the tavern said to be owned by members of her family. Maybe then she would be able to make peace with the matter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part III**

Somewhere off the coast of Ferelden, on an isolated island in the Waking Sea, a dark plan unfolds. Long before there was ever a Ferelden, the island and the temple on it had existed far from the curious view of men. The original builders of the temple remain unknown to its present occupants, the Order of Bohlen, but they were master craftsmen, whoever they might have been. Tall marble columns, whose age was readily visible from the many chips and cracks, shot upwards to support the ceiling which was covered in a detailed fresco depicting an ancient hero slaying a hideous beast with his sword. The cracked tiles covering the ground allowed sprouts of weeds to grow through where a floor had once been. One of the order's members foot stumbled upon such a crack and nearly fell, as he raced down the temple walkway on his way to deliver some most urgent news.

Trembling hands reached out from a blood-red robe to grasp the large handles on the door into the heart of the temple and pull them open. Hastily, the figure ducked inside, closing the door behind him. Quick steps echoed throughout the interior of the large main foyer as the man scurried across the well-tiled floor and turned down one of the corridors to the side. Upon reaching another large door, the hooded figure stopped before it, raised his still trembling hand, and rapidly knocked.

"Who goes there?" A voice demanded from the other side of the door.

Pulling back his hood to reveal a middle-aged man with a gray-streaked beard, the man said "It's Eldrich, your Grace. I bring urgent word from Ferelden."

"By all means, then. Enter." a soothing voice replied.

Eldrich slowly opened the door, peaking his head around it as he did so.

"No need to be timid. I won't bite."

The door was swung wide to reveal an older man sitting in an ornately carved golden chair with a red cushion. He was a thin and spindly man who was completely bald. He was dressed in an lavish white robe that had intricate designs sewn in gold thread. Before him was a vanity, also painted in pure gold and encrusted with large gems, into which he stared. "Tell me, what news do you have?"

"My Lord, Denolian, our man in Ferelden sends word of his success. He says all has been arranged just as you asked."

"That's excellent news, Eldrich." Denolian said, his speech like some soft lullaby as he turned from the mirror to face the shaking man. "Do you know what this means?"

"Uhm...uh..." the man sputtered, unsure of what his answer should be.

"It means that we can now move forward with our plans to put Ferelden back on the right path. The path the Maker has chosen. And I will be the instrument the Maker uses to clear that path and make ready for his return. The blood of the sinners an blasphemers shall serve to cleanse the land. Glory to the Maker!"

"Glory to the Maker!" Eldrich repeated dutifully.

* * *

The Warden's eyes slowly opened, his head still in a groggy fog from a long night of slumber. As his sight cleared and the world around him came into focus, he saw Morrigan to his right, sitting on a chair next to the bed.

"Good morning, my sweet." she said in a chipper voice as her hand reached out and slowly pulled the blanket that covered The Warden down to his waist, exposing his naked chest. The witch let her fingers trail along his body, tracing the outlines of the muscles beneath his skin with her fingertips.

"Good morning to you, too." he returned while her hand slid beneath the blanket, finding something much more sensitive to her touch, which quickly responded to the attention. The Warden groaned his approval.

He was no fool. Morrigan was after something, he was sure of it. But this was her way of properly preparing him to be asked. The funny thing about it, The Warden thought, was that he would most likely say yes to pretty much anything she asked him anyway. But the girl had a gift and he wasn't about to turn those magical hands away.

After she had finished putting him in the best possible of moods, as expected, she trained her large golden eyes on him, trying to make them as big and inviting as she could, and said "I need to ask something of you." in a soft, sultry voice.

Now came the tricky part. The Warden very much enjoyed this arrangement and wanted to see it continue for as long as he could. But if he handled the situation wrong, everything would blow up in his face and crush any further chance of Morrigan's repeated sexual bribes. "Oh, what's that?" he asked in a cool tone.

"You recall that I am going to the tavern today, no doubt." she said, moving from her spot in the chair to slide next to him in the bed. "I wish for you to accompany me."

If he caved too quickly, the witch might sense too easy of a success and refrain from buttering him up in the future. On the other hand, if he was too callous towards her...well it was Morrigan after all, and the result of that would not be pretty. The Warden needed to use his wits, finding just what to say. "Are you sure that's best?" he asked, wrapping his arms around and sliding his hands behind his head.

"Your support would be appreciated. Are your family not the lords of these lands? Any trouble these people might deign to give me would soon evaporate upon seeing you." The witch said while she traced small circles on his chest with her finger.

"Is that the only reason?" he inquired, fearing he may be pushing his luck a bit. But he could also achieve a decisive blow if strategy proved effective.

"'Tis not my _sole_ reason." she admitted, sounding annoyed he would press the obvious, "If I am to do this, I shall not be able to do so alone. Conversing with strangers over sensitive matters is not my...strength. I would ask that you join me." She shifted position so that her chin rested on his chest so her gaze could meet his, her voice softening. "Dwemer, please go with me." she whispered.

"Of course, I'll go."

"Thank you, my love." she said, embracing him, giving a big squeeze, and a quick kiss before hopping up. "We leave as soon as you are dressed."

The Warden grinned to himself when her back faced him, smiling at his own success.

While Highever was fairly large, it was still substantially smaller than Denerim. The market district was also somewhat lacking when compared with Denerim, but there were still plenty of shops and markets were one could spend their hard earned coin. However, there were only three pubs in the entire town making Morrigan's task of locating the correct one quite simple.

The village was still small enough that everyone knew everyone else. Morrigan found comfort in this small fact as her Warden had known many of these people his entire life and his presence would give her some semblance of similarity among strangers. He could act as a buffer for her if she so needed.

And sure enough, it wasn't long before they found themselves in front of the particular tavern that the witch sought. She stared at the wooden sign posted over the door that read "The Bent Blade Tavern – Food, Wine, and Spirits."

"This is the best place to get venison stew in Highever" The Warden said while shaking his finger at the sign. "I've been here more than a few times."

With large butterflies tumbling about in her stomach, Morrigan swung the door open, swallowed hard, and went inside. The Warden followed his witch into the tavern, finding several patrons huddled in dark corner booths, guzzling down large tankards of mead and ale. Several others sat at the long wooden bar that stretched along the far wall of the tavern, behind which was a large, burly older man who served the customers. To the left was the door into the kitchen, were the sounds of clanging pots and pans could be heard ringing out as the cooks toiled, hastily preparing dishes for the hungry customers. Morrigan caught a glimpse of a girl with long brown hair that hung braided behind her. She was wearing a white apron that was covered in many greasy stains. She looked stressed and tired as she issued commands to the kitchen's other occupants. The witch tried to take in as much about the woman as she could while she wondered if she may be staring at some possible relative.

Morrigan and The Warden strolled up to the bar, The Warden extending his hand over it to clasp the hand of the large man behind it, saying, "Jenerik! It's been too long." as he did.

"My lord, Dwemer. It's been some time. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Jenerik replied with a big, hearty smile.

"I have someone here who'd like to talk to you." The Warden said as he gestured towards the witch.

"This would be the lovely bride-to-be that all of Highever is buzzing about?" Jenerik asked in his gruff voice. "I feel honored to make your acquaintance. How can ol' Jenerik help you?"

"Who owns this establishment?" the witch asked.

"Yours truly." Jenerik answered, pointing his thumbs at himself and grinning.

"Has it always been in your family?"

"No, not always. I'm the first member of my family to own a business of any kind. Most of my family are sailors, you see. But me? I don't have the legs for it. Always felt better with my feet on dry land."

"How long have you been the owner?"

"Some thirty years or so now, I reckon. Give or take. Ever since I bought it. Why do you ask?"

"I am looking for someone. Someone very important." was all the witch would offer. "Listen carefully to my next question, for while it may seem odd, 'tis most important."

"Alright..." Jenerik said, leaning in with his ear to better hear the witch.

"Have you ever lost any children? Had one simply vanish? An infant perhaps? A girl?"

"Can't say as I have. Only offspring I got is Hayleen, and I can't seem to get rid of her. Even now she's in the kitchen, probably screamin' her fool head off at the help." Jenerik answered, then turned to The Warden and asked, "What's that brother of yours doing? He's still single, isn't he?"

"I do not understand." Morrigan muttered, confusion on her face, "This _has_ to be the place."

"You know what? Come to think of it I remember something about the previous owners." Jenerik said as he snapped his fingers.

"Previous owners?" The Warden asked, "I don't remember anyone else but you ever owning this place."

"You would have been too young to remember, my lord. You couldn't have been more than two or three years old at most." the large man explained as he rubbed his bearded chin. "See, I worked for the previous owners for several years before I bought the place. They were a nice young couple. This tavern was built by the man after coming into some coin, his father having left it to him."

Jenerik paused for a moment, deep in thought. These were things he hadn't thought about in many years and the memories were not as vivid as they once had been. "I remember that they had a baby. A little girl. Cute as a button with her black hair and blue eyes. I'll never forget those eyes. One day, however, I got a bit of bad news when I came in to open the place up for the day. It seems that the night before, the young couple was viciously attacked by a savage beast. Neither survived. I'm told the scene was quite horrific. Funny thing is, they never found the girl. I think the beast made off with the poor babe for a later meal. Soon afterward I was given the opportunity to buy the place, so I did. And I've been running it ever since." he finished while he continued to wipe down the counter with a rag.

"This man and woman, do you recall their names?" Morrigan asked Jenerik, trying to probe the man for anything he might know.

"Let me think...his name was...was...Elisha. That's it. Elisha Hamric. The woman's name was Corine."

"You mentioned they had family. Were you aware of any they might have had?"

"No...not that I remem...Oh wait!" Jenerik said, snapping his fingers again. "She once told me she had a younger sister that lived in...in...damn! I can't seem to remember off hand. I'm sorry. That's all I remember."

"Are you quite sure there is nothing more about them you can tell me?"

"No, not that I can think of. Truth is I never figured I'd ever be thinking about those poor people again. And with you askin' all these questions about 'em...makes me wonder a bit. Why would you be so interested in people who've been dead more than thirty years? Unless...wait a minute...you're about the right age, I guess...I thought maybe a bit too young at first, with the lighting and all...but...you're _her_ aren't you? Got away from the beast after all?"

"You've been most helpful." Morrigan said as she turned to leave without answering, a clear look of disappointment on her face. The Warden followed after her with his mind quickly trying to come up with the right words to say.

Morrigan's hands reached out the grab the door and just as The Warden was about to say the best words he could think to say, a voice boomed from the back of the tavern. It was Jenerik's. "Redcliffe! She said her sister lived in Redcliffe Village!" he hollered out.

"Thanks, Jenerik." The Warden said with a wave as he and the witch exited.

"Glad to be of service, my lord."

Once outside in the street, Morrigan broke into a brisk walk on her way back to the castle. She couldn't put the tavern far enough behind her in a quick enough fashion. In an aggravated huff, she raised her arms skyward as a soft light began to envelope her.

"Wait." The Warden said, grabbing her and interrupting the change. "Don't fly off somewhere. Let's talk about this."

She cast a glare back at him over her shoulder "Why is it that we must always talk? My desire is to be alone, not be smothered by your constant doting."

"So, instead, you fly off making me spend most of the day looking for you. We've played that game before, I don't like it. You're better at hiding than I am at looking. Besides, while I know this wasn't what you expected..."

"What I expected? They are both dead!" the witch exclaimed, interrupting him, "I was a fool to have ever gotten my hopes up. I should have _expected_ Flemeth to do as much."

"It wasn't a complete loss. We did find out a good bit about your family."

"Yes, it would seem I am a Hamric, apparently. But according to the records I read, no such family hails from Highever."

"Well, they have to be out there somewhere. And best of all, we know were to start looking."

"Redcliffe..."

"Redcliffe." The Warden repeated. "I know this is a great deal to handle right now. If you need to go clear your head, I understand. Just try not to be too long."

"Lest I desire to have the entire castle guard hunting for me?"

"Something like that."

"As you wish." she said with a sigh as she once again positioned herself for transformation.

Morrigan paused momentarily, saying, "Dwemer..."

"Yes?"

"Thank you for...understanding."

"Hey, that's what I'm here for."

* * *

In a dank, dark basement located beneath a run down hovel, somewhere in Highever, a small group of men are assembled. Their purpose: to set into motion plans for a shift in power in Ferelden. All of the men wore the garbs of a blood mage, save one. The non-mage stood in back, apart from the rest, observing. He concealed himself beneath a black hooded robe, his face hidden from view.

Dark chants filled the room. A large rune had been traced on the floor, lit by candles placed in a circle around it. Smoldering pots of incense filled the room with a hazy fog and strong fragrances. One of the mages reached inside his robe and withdrew a blood-red gem. He held it out before him in his palms, all the while chanting archaic words from a long-dead language.

Placing the gem in the middle of the rune, the blood mage stepped back, still chanting. A side door swung open and two large figures with blood-red robes dragged a young maiden, who was naked, bound, and gagged, into the room, her face showing confusion and terror.

"We who call for you ask that you accept this sacrifice!" the blood mage yelled. He then gestured the two large figures to bring the girl into the center of the rune, which they did, laying her on her back next to the gem.

The girl, who had been frantically trying to roll off her back, suddenly stopped. She began to raise into the air slowly while the mages continued their chants, growing ever louder. The girl paused after floating several feet off the floor, and began screaming loudly against her gag. She went silent when there was a loud "crack!" as the poor girl was folded backwards, her feet slapping against the back of her head. Blood began to pour from her body and splatter against the stone floor as she hung lifeless in the air. Before long, several large puddles began to form. When no more blood was left in the girl, she was cast aside and fell to the floor just beyond the rune.

Then, as the dark man observed, the blood began to pool and come together into one large puddle which then flowed into the red gem, as if the gem were drinking it in. After all the blood had been drained off the floor, the sounds of cracking could be heard. The gem began to shatter, pieces flying through the air. When a large split cracked the gem down the middle, a purple vapor came spewing forth. As it flowed from the gem, the vapor started to come together, making the outlines of a female form. Soon it became evident to all, this was no ordinary female, it was a desire demon.

"You have been freed as promised." the dark man said as he approached the demon, which was trapped by the rune.

"Freed? I merely exchanged one prison for another. Release this rune!" the demon exclaimed.

"Not until I'm sure you're going to live up to your part of the bargain."

"What assurances do you need? We both serve the same master. He was the one who directed you to free me in the first place. Our goals are the same."

"Not good enough. Show me that your up to the task." the dark man demanded.

"Very well..." the demon said as it began to glow, its outlines changing form into someone else. And when the change was complete the form of Morrigan stood where there was once a demon.

"Is this more to your liking?" the demon-witch said.

"That'll do just fine." The dark figure replied, grinning somewhere beneath his black hood.

* * *

The air was cool and crisp against Morrigan's feathered face. Rarely did she venture to these heights, but she felt the added altitude would help her put things into perspective. And it had, as she looked upon the village of Highever from far above, its residents no more than tiny ants in the witch's view. From this high up, Morrigan was even able to see the tip of Circle Tower against the horizon to the southwest.

From her aerial vantage point, she was able to see the connections that those on the ground could not. She watched as a woman in the town bought bread from the baker, who in turn bought several bushels of wheat from a farmer, the farmer then used that money to pay his workers, one of which being the husband to the first woman he watched. The witch wondered, as the man gave the woman some coin with which to finish her errands, if the sovereign she first spent hadn't just come back to her. And if so, how many times had the woman paid for bread with the same money?

As the sun began to set against the horizon, the witch glided down from above, on her way back to the castle. Outside of the window to her and The Warden's chambers was a large willow tree that the witch flew to first, landing on one of the large branches. She was able to peer inside the window and spy on her warden, who was attending to Seth.

The Warden was on his hands and knees, chasing the young tot about the room while Seth giggled and squealed in delight. Seth would hide around one of the corners of the large table, while The Warden would slow to a crawl, almost like he was a tiger stalking his prey. Without warning, he would hop around the corner of the table, shouting, "Found you!" as the child laughed and ran away. The Warden jumped to his feet and scrambled after Seth, catching him about the waist from behind and hauling him into the air. The child's laughter filled the room as The Warden held his son in his arms and pressed his mouth against Seth's exposed belly, blowing raspberries into the boy's stomach.

As she watched them, Morrigan tried to picture the Warden how he might look in the future, imaging herself by his side. Never before had she tried to envision any real future for herself. Before meeting The Warden, she always figured she would continue to gain in power and strength for as long as she was able. But now, things were vastly different. Now she had a chance at a _real _future. She pondered what she would be like many years from now; The Warden's continual affect on her making her into a softer woman, capable of expressing her emotion without shame. For better or worse, Morrigan was unsure. She knew only that her answers lay far in the future. For soon, they would be man and wife.

She had asked him to be her husband as much as he had asked her to be his wife. Almost as if they were afraid the other would be scared off. And now that ceremony was days away, the thought causing a shiver to ruffle her tiny feathers. It was customary among the highborn in Ferelden to write a portion of their own vows. And while she was sure The Warden had long since finished writing his, she had yet to even start on hers. It wasn't for lack of effort, though. Several times Morrigan sat at the table with ink, paper, and pen attempting to define what she felt and what The Warden had come to mean to her. Each time she was unable to put those thoughts into words, becoming more frustrated with each try. Just once she wanted to be able to have the ability to talk from her heart, but her cynical nature left her unskilled as such things, she felt. Having seen all she cared to, The witch leapt from her perch and fluttered through the open window, reverting to form with a flash once inside.

"Mom'er!" Seth exclaimed upon seeing his mother.

"I was starting to worry." The Warden said as he set the tot down. Seth's scrambling feet immediately took him to Morrigan, who scooped the child up in her arms, resting him against her left hip.

"No doubt, you have the castle guard readying for a search." The witch returned.

"I wasn't _that_ worried...yet." He replied as he walked closer to her, but resisting the urge to touch. "How about you? How are you feeling?"

"'Tis such an odd question. I shall never get used to hearing it. It matters not how I feel."

"It matters to me."

"The truth is...I am unsure how I feel." Morrigan admitted as she began to lightly stroke his arm with her fingers. "'Tis all so strange to me. I never once thought to denounce Flemeth as my mother. True, we may not have been blood, but I was ignorant of that and she was the only mother I ever knew, such as she was."

"Flemeth was a monster. She treated you terribly." The Warden noted, "She was never a mother."

"To this day I am convinced that Flemeth did indeed have my best interests at heart, in her own fashion. In many ways she was the best mother I could have had. After all, had it not been for her, we would never have met and _you_ would be dead."

"Good point..."

"I've been thinking..." Morrigan continued, "We are to be wed in less than a week, after which I would like to go to Redcliffe."

"You want to honeymoon in Redcliffe?" he asked slightly shocked, "The last time we were there it was full of a bunch of dead people."

"Yes." she answered sternly, "I wish to travel to Redcliffe for our....honeymoon?" Morrigan's face crumpled in confusion, "That being what, exactly?"

"Never mind. I'll show you when we get there." he said with a sly grin. "We can go anywhere you want."

* * *

Barely three days remained until the big event that all of Ferelden was talking about. The Grey Warden was getting married, dashing the hopes of many young maidens throughout the country. His bride would be the apostate, Morrigan, the only free mage Ferelden had seen in centuries. She was an extremely beautiful woman who was also well known across the lands, by her own deeds as much as by her association with The Warden. And for the most part she was loved among the populace. Especially the mages, who admired Morrigan for her role in their expanded freedoms. But others saw her as a threat. A blight upon the land as dire as any darkspawn could muster.

There were those who felt the Chantry was becoming soft, that it had let them down. It was the fault of the Chantry itself that the Maker refused to return. They had not done all that was necessary to bring the Chant of Light to the world. Allowing a maleficarum to walk free in their midst was unthinkable. And above all, these people blamed the Chantry for the last blight, saying it was a sign from the Maker of his displeasure.

These same people were also finding that there were others who felt the same way. Others who would not allow the sacrilege any longer. They found a place to voice their concerns without fear of chantric reprisal. A place were they could gather and listen to the Maker's true message. The Order of Bohlen, whose priests and followers were spreading to all corners of Ferelden.

"Do you really need all this crap?" Alistair said upon marveling at the decorations in the main hall.

"I don't...no." The Warden answered his friend while they both waited for the bard, as instructed. "We could get married in a mud pit surrounded by pigs for all I care."

"Then why don't you? I mean, you have to admit, it is a tad much."

"Tell that to Morrigan. I know exactly why she wants it this way, but if I tell you she'll melt my face off." The Warden said, shrugging.

"Right...I suppose that would be bad. After all, I'm sure you'll need your face. But it would be a lot quieter around here. And I could use the peace."

"Gee, thanks."

While they waited, The Warden thought about the reason behind the lavishness of the wedding. Morrigan was particularly fond of fairy tales as a child, and many of those books contained royal weddings of the most extravagant kind. The witch never thought she would be involved with any man, let alone agree to marriage. But if she ever did, she had always hoped for the kind of weddings that were in the tales she read. And now that she had the chance, Morrigan wasn't going to let it pass her by. Fortunately for the witch, such weddings were not uncommon among Ferelden's elite. Fergus noted that on his wedding day, one thousand white doves were released into the air. Oriana, it seems, also desired a large wedding and decorated the main hall in a grand fashion as well.

"What are you two staring at? Is there something wrong with the ceiling?" a familiar voice rang out.

"Zevran!" The Warden exclaimed, "What the hell are you doing here?" The Warden reached out a hand to the elf in greeting, Alistair doing likewise. He looked much the same as he did when last The Warden saw him. Zevran was covered in black leather armor of exquisite quality, his long blonde hair streaked from the sun and braided in the back.

"I was told there was going to be a wedding so I thought I'd lend my charming presence." Zevran replied in his typical quasi-serious manner.

"It's not for three days yet. Do you have a place to stay?"

"Don't worry about me, my friend. I found a quaint inn located in the village. As long as you don't mind sharing the bed with rats the size of a mabari, it's quite pleasant, actually."

"I'll get you a room ready." The Warden said.

"That would be most appreciated."

"I see we have pests." Morrigan said as she entered the hall and saw the elf.

"And after all this time, your words still wound me." Zevran quipped, "It is a pity we never made love. Although, we still have a small amount of time left if you wish to..."

"Do not try that crap with me you insolent little troll." Morrigan barked, "Your, so-called, seductive charms shall only gain you much pain and suffering."

"And you are still as beautiful as ever when you're angry...and something else as well."

"What do you mean?" Morrigan asked.

"There's something different about you. I don't know..."

"If you value your meager existence then you shall say what you mean."

"Ah...there. I recognize it now. I didn't before, because I'd never seen it on you." the elf said.

"That being...?"

"You look happy."


	4. Chapter 4

**Part IV**

The sun cast its warmth down on Highever once again for the start of another glorious day. With two days left until the grand ceremony, the entire castle and village were abuzz. Castle servants hustled to and fro making final preparations under the watchful eye of the bard. While down in the village, shops and houses had been decorated and congratulatory signs and well wishes had been hung everywhere.

Being a Cousland gave The Warden status and popularity by birth and any wedding he had was bound to be well attended already, as other lords and ladies would line up to pay their respects to him and his new bride, with the occasional foreign dignitary mixed in for good measure. But, and perhaps more importantly, he was also The Grey Warden, Ferelden's most beloved son. He was a hero to all the people of land, human, elf, and dwarf alike. And as such, throngs of people had arrived for the event. Many tens of thousands of ordinary folk pitched their tents in any open place they could find, each hoping to get just a glimpse of The Warden and his fair witch. Over the past few days, the grounds outside the castle had gone from a few white tents dotted here and there, to a continuous field, like one white sheet stretching all the way around the castle.

For the blessed day's two participants, however, the reality of the situation was beginning to sink in. Both had become little more than a bundle of nerves. Morrigan had become so agitated that she spent most of her time alone in her quarters, looking into the mirror on her vanity and saying, "Cooooozland. Cousland. Coooz....Greetings...my name is Morrigan Cooozland.... Morrigan Coosland.." and grumbling to herself, trying her best to get a handle on having a new name.

"Have I gone completely mad? I am not doing this!" she would say to her reflection with conviction, only to recant seconds later, "Alright. I can do this. 'Tis nothing I cannot handle. 'Tis only...'tis only _for the_ _rest of my life_..." she said as she buried her face in her hands.

At the same time, The Warden could be found in the kitchen, essentially taking over the chef's duties and feeding the castle's inhabitants. For once the chef was happy for the help as it freed him to concentrate on the wedding meal, itself a monumental task. Each time someone would come to retrieve The Warden, his reply would be the same, "I'll be there in a few minutes." But of course, "a few minutes" never came and The Warden remained in the kitchen.

After waiting for hours to speak to The Warden and Morrigan, the bard became frustrated and went to the teyrn seeking his help. She found Fergus in his study, trying his best to hide from the activities around him. He was at his desk, going over some important-looking documents.

"Are you busy?" Leliana asked as he entered the study.

"I was just trying to get a bit of work done. Nothing terribly important. What can I do for you?"

"That brother of yours refuses to budge from the kitchen. And Morrigan hasn't left her room all day. How am I supposed to plan a wedding if the bride and groom to be are both off hiding somewhere?"

"I'll go have a talk with my brother. I'm sure I can make him understand the_ urgency_ of the situation." Fergus responded, with more than a little sarcasm and a smirk, "With, Morrigan, I make no such guarantees, however. But I'll try my best."

"Thanks, Fergus."

The teyrn obliged the bard and soon found himself standing in an empty kitchen. Many dishes had been cooked covering any free table or shelf. Smoke poured out of one of the pans on the still-lit stove. Fergus rushed over and removed the pan, dunking it into a large tub of water with a great hiss and a puff of steam. After the smoke cleared a bit, he noticed the door to the larder was wide open and walked over to close it. As he did, he caught the glimpse of a pair of legs sticking out from the corner. Leaning in, Fergus saw The Warden lying against several sacks of flour in the corner of the larder. A large, mostly empty, bottle of dwarven brandy hung loosely in his hand.

"You nearly burned down the entire castle, you stupid bastard." was the teyrn greeting to his brother, accenting his statement with a kick the The Warden's feet. "What are you doing?"

The Warden's head slowly turned to face his brother. His eyes blinking hard, trying to clear blurred and fuzzy vision.

"You're drunk off your arse, aren't you? Can you even stand?" Fergus asked.

"Ss..Stand? Hell...I can...I can bare...barely talk." The Warden answered in a drunken slur, finishing with a large belch.

"Maker.....you're shitfaced." the teyrn moaned as he crouched down to sit next to The Warden on the floor. "Can't say as I blame you, though. Any of that left?"

The Warden handed the bottle to his brother, nearly losing his grip and dropping it. Fortunately, Fergus' reflexes had yet to be hampered by the alcohol. But that was about to change, as the teyrn put the bottle to his lips and took a large swig.

* * *

"Alistair...I'm so glad I found you." Leliana said, running up to the king outside in the courtyard.

"Found me? What for?" the king replied.

"I asked Fergus to get Dwemer out of the kitchen. That was _hours_ ago!" She huffed, obviously quite aggravated, "I just went to the kitchen. There's nobody there. It's empty."

"Did you check in his room?"

"Morrigan is still locked in there. She won't come out either." the bard said, her desperation apparent, "Alistair, you're the king. Do something."

"You want me it issue a royal order for their arrests?" Alistair quipped, sarcastically.

"This no time to be funny. This is serious. The wedding is the day after tomorrow."

"Alright, settle down. Don't get your locks in a tangle. I'll see what I can do."

"Thank, you, Alistair." the bard said, grateful for the assistance.

With a slight nod to Leliana, Alistair turned and walked up the steps to the castle. The sentry opened the way for the king, who entered the doorway into the grand foyer. Taking a right turn, Alistair headed down a stone corridor on his way to the kitchen. After another turn and a steep ramp, he found himself in front his destination.

From behind the door, Alistair could hear what sounded like someone singing. He opened the door and walked through. The first thing that caught the king's eye were the piles of food that had been prepared, all going to waste and cluttering every square inch of the kitchen.

"Maker's breath..." Alistair mumbled to himself, knowing that his friend must indeed be troubled to have cooked such a mountainous feast.

The door to the larder was left open, which also seemed to be the source of the singing. With slow steps, he walked over to the larder and looked inside. The room was a complete mess. It looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Bottles, some of which were shattered, vegetables of all sorts, broken crates, and torn flour sacks were some of the items that lay all over the floor of the larder. Over in the left corner, the two brothers sat amid the ruin, arm-in-arm, singing an old Ferelden drinking song...badly. Their warbling timbres could easily have been likened to the mating call of a moose.

"Leliana has been looking for you. _Both_ of you." the king said to the pair after the assault on his ears had ceased.

"Oops..." Fergus said. "I knew I forgot something."

"You're both drunk!" Alistair exclaimed.

"And...an..and Morr*hic*igan says...Morrigan says...you're dumb." The Warden attempted to retaliate through his stupor.

"Look at you. You can barely even talk. Leliana isn't going to like this."

"Who?" Fergus asked.

"Lel...Lelian...Leli...You know...the red head." The Warden answered his brother.

"Ah! Red!" Fergus exclaimed, remembering the bard at last.

"Come one, you two. Let's get going." Alistair urged as he attempted to tug on their arms.

"Boo!" Fergus yelled, tossing an empty bottle at the king, which he dodged causing the bottle to break against the far wall. "Hey, Dwemer. This guy is trying to ruin our fun."

"I'm serious. I am giving both of you a direct royal order to report to Leliana immediately." Alistair commanded, trying to sound as serious as he could. His plan backfired as he found himself dodging another empty bottle, this one tossed by The Warden, as the brothers broke into a fit of hysterical laughter.

"Come on, now. I mean it." Alistair pleaded, "I am telling you as your king..."

"Oh, get the stick out of your arse and grab that other bottle off the shelf." Fergus said, gesturing to the lone remaining bottle of brandy sitting on a shelf across the room.

"Fine. Have it your way. I guess if you can't beam 'em..." The king relented as he grabbed the brandy from the shelf, popped the cork stopper, and took a long drink.

"Look at this place. It's a mess." Alistair said as he passed the bottle to Fergus, who quickly turned it up.

"It's my bloody castle. I can mess it up if I want." Fergus retorted, wiping his face with the back of his hand, as he, in turn, passed the bottle to The Warden.

* * *

The sounds of a lock being released and a latch opening echoed in the corridor. Morrigan swung the door to her quarters open and walked out, on her way to fetch Seth once more from the castle nanny. Before proceeding, The witch cast glanced to her left and right, making sure the coast was clear and she was not being followed. When she was satisfied the all was safe, she started down the long hallway.

"There you are!" a voice cried out from nowhere.

"Leliana! You startled me. I was not aware there was someone else." came the witch's reply.

"Being a bard has it's upsides."

"Indeed. I've seen cats who move with more noise than you. Now, if you'll excuse me, 'tis time for me to get Seth."

"I've been trying to get you to come down to the main hall all day. We need to make the final preparations and we can't do that without you."

"I am quite sure you can find your way without me." the witch said as she started walking.

"So, you're perfectly comfortable with the hem line on the gown? It was hand-tailored for you, remember? Zevran was kind enough to act as a stand in, but it's not the same. That and I think he liked wearing it more than you do."

"I did not just hear you say that disgusting creature was climbing about in my wedding gown. I would sooner go naked than be made to wear something after he's had his filth all over it." the witch replied, her arms folded and eyes glaring.

"Alright, that part I made up." Leliana admitted, "But I swear I'll get him to do it if you don't go down there."

Morrigan sighed deeply, "Very well, as you insist. I shall fetch Seth and meet you in the hall."

"And if you see that man of yours, tell him I'm going to wring his neck." Leliana said, clearly frustrated, "That goes for Alistair and Fergus, too."

"I've not seen Dwemer all day. Have you looked in the kitchen? You know how he gets."

"I _looked_ in the kitchen. Repeatedly. I went to ask Fergus to find him and he never came back. I asked Alistair, too. He didn't return either."

"One would get the impression that you are being avoided."

In the larder, Alistair slumped to the floor, his back resting against the cold stone wall. He held the cask of brandy up, peering in to see if anything was left, but the bottle had been drained, along with the others. To his left, the Teyrn of Highever lay against flour sacks, passed out. With a flick of his wrist, Alistair cast the bottle aside which landed against the wall across from him and shattered into bits, making a loud noise as it did.

The sound evidently attracted someone, because soon a shadow appeared in the larder doorway. Its hands resting on its hips and an icy glare emanating from somewhere in its darkened face. "So, here you are." the shadow said, ominously.

"Morrigan?" the king asked, squinting to get a better look.

"Yes, 'tis I." the witch replied, "Where is he?"

Alistair lifted his hand and slowly pointed to a corner of the larder that contained a pile of sacks of wheat and flour. Upon closer inspection, Morrigan noticed a foot sticking out of the pile. It was then that the witch heard a sound coming from somewhere deep within the sacks; the sound of muffled snoring. She went over to the collected sacks and began pushing them aside. Bit by bit a form was revealed with each sack that was moved, until at last, Morrigan found The Warden buried underneath, out cold.

"Just lovely." the witch remarked, looking down at him, "I do not even want to know how you ended up in there."

With the aid of several servants, Morrigan was able to relocate The Warden into his bed, who was totally oblivious the entire time. The witch knew he would be out for at least the rest of the day, maybe more. And since Fergus was likewise indisposed, Morrigan had to explain to Leliana there was no one else to care for Seth and that the alterations to the gown would have to be put off yet again. Naturally, the bard was less than overjoyed at the news.

* * *

The next morning, news reached Morrigan that Silas had returned to the castle and was looking for The Warden. She discreetly informed the messenger that The Warden was indisposed at the time but would meet with the younger warden as soon as he was able. The truth being that The Warden was, in fact, still sleeping off the drunken stupor from the previous day.

As the day progressed, and noon approached, The Warden finally began to stir, slowly waking up. Within seconds of opening his eyes, the affects of largest hangover of his life began to set in. The room was unmercifully bright and his eyes felt like they were on fire in his sockets. His head felt like he spent the last day letting a qunari jump up and down on it. Wearing thick, heavy boots, no less. The contents in his stomach couldn't wait to attempt an escape.

"At last he moves." Morrigan said as she placed a mug of steaming liquid on the table, its smell absolutely revolting. "Now come, have your tea."

The witch had prepared some black root tea for him. Her remedy for a hangover. At least that what she had told him it was. He thought of it more as a punishment, however, as the tea was vile and oily tasting. It tasted like liquid oysters, he thought. Keeping it down wasn't a miracle, it was impossible. "Do I have to?" he whined.

"Yes, you most certainly do." the witch said, her hands on her hips, "I went through the trouble of preparing it for you. The least you could do in return is drink it."

"But that stuff is awful."

"_You_ should have thought about that before engaging in such adolescent behavior. You have only yourself to blame. Now drink."

"Fine." he griped as he grabbed the mug from the table and started to make his way to their private garderobe.

"And just were do you think you are going?"

"What? I have to piss."

"Drink first, piss later. I'll not have you pouring it down the drain again." she said to him with folded arms.

"Alright, alright." he said as he slowly put the cup to his lips, braced himself, and downed the revolting substance as fast as he could, trying his best to avoid his tongue in order to keep from having to taste it.

"There, 'tis done and you still live. You make such a fuss about the smallest things."

Without acknowledging the witch, The Warden quickly covered his mouth, turned, and raced for the garderobe unable to keep the contents in his stomach any longer. After several long minutes, he emerged, stumbling to the table and sitting down in one of the chairs beside it, laying his elbow on the table and resting his head in his hand.

"Word came that Silas has returned to the castle and wishes to speak with you." Morrigan said as she crept up behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders, gently massaging him.

"Mmmm....That feels good." he replied, "I'll go see Silas. I just need a few minutes first."

"It would be advisable for you to bathe as well. You reek of liquor and vomit."

"I love you, too." he said, reaching up and placing his hand on hers.

"Do you?" she asked, cocking her head, "If that is so, why nearly drink yourself to death? Does the prospect of marriage to me seem so revolting?"

"No, of course not."

"Then what possible reason could you have for your actions?"

"The same reason you stay locked up in here all day." he answered, turning his head to look at her. "I'm scared to death."

"Of what, exactly?"

"Of not being good enough for you and letting you down." The Warden admitted, "I am so grateful for every day I have you in my life. I'm terrified of messing that up. I don't ever want to feel like I felt after the Battle of Denerim, after you left."

"Twas not a day I remember fondly, either."

"You were so cold with me that day, like nothing we had meant anything." he said as he stood from his chair and faced her, wrapping his arms around her.

"I had to be. I could not let you see that my heart was breaking. Surely, you know that I longed to remain by your side. ." Morrigan said, her gaze dropping to the floor, "I was a fool for leaving as I did".

"But those days are far behind us, now."

"Thanks to your stubbornness and refusal to let me go." the witch replied, looking back up.

"Just how close were you to staying?"

"Closer than I care to admit." she whispered softly.

"You know why I agreed to it don't you? The ritual, I mean." he asked, staring directly into her beautiful golden eyes, "I did it because _you asked me to_. Not because I was afraid of dying. Do you remember what I asked you that night?"

"Yes..." she said as she looked up at him, "You asked me, what was the point in you being alive...if I...if ...." Morrigan paused, trying to stifle her emotions, "If I was not there to share it with you."

"That's right. And those words are more true now than ever." he said to her, "You are everything to me."

"You evil man. Look at what you've done to me." she said as she leaned in to embrace him tightly, trying to hide her tearing eyes from his view.

* * *

The youngest of the Grey Wardens paced back and forth impatiently in the foyer of the castle. He had been waiting to talk to The Warden for what seemed like hours. In truth, it had actually been less than an hour, but the youth's patience was beginning to wear thin. He had urgent news to deliver, if only The Warden would hurry up. So, Silas continued to pace, getting slightly faster and faster with each turn, until at last he saw The Warden coming into the foyer.

"It's about time you got here. I've been waiting forever." Silas said to The Warden as he approached.

"Sorry about that." The Warden replied, "I was in the middle of something."

"I'll bet you were."

"I take it you've finished your business in Highever?" The Warden asked.

"Not exactly. See, that's what I came to see you about." Silas answered and began to explain the situation, "The reason I was here in the first place is because I was tracking a group of blood mages. I followed them here, to Highever."

"What were these blood mages doing?"

"They managed to steal a blood red gem from Circle Tower."

"I don't understand."

"This was no ordinary gem, it was a reliquary for a powerful demon. If they manage to somehow release it..."

"We can't let that happen." The Warden stated firmly. "How many blood mages are there?"

"Four, led by a man named Brynnaret."

"Do you know where the mages are now?"

"They're hold up in an abandoned house on the northern edge of the village."

"I know that house. We'll leave at once." The Warden said, as eager to stop the mages as he was to have something to take his mind off the wedding.

"I was hoping that's what you'd say." Silas said with a smile.

"Let me grab my things. I'll meet you at the castle gate in fifteen minutes."

The Warden rushed back to his quarters and began grabbing the things he would need. Morrigan, who was still in the room, cast an quizzical eye at him as he collected his armor and weapons. "And where are you off to?" she asked.

"Four blood mages are hiding out in Highever. I need to go take care of it."

"Can your protege not handle the deed alone?"

"Silas is good, but he can be reckless at times. It's better if I handle this myself."

"You do know that you are fooling no one. I see your true intent. You require a distraction, nothing more."

"Morrigan..."

"Go. Slay the filthy vermin that haunts your quaint village. As ever, I shall be here when you return." She said, "But know this, I'll not have my groom covered in bandages. Do not play with them. Do only what you must then return."

"I promise. I'll be as quick as I can." he assured, pressing his lips to hers in a tender parting kiss.

After he gathered his gear, The Warden hurried back to meet with Silas at the main castle gate. "Alright, I'm ready. Let's go." he said while adjusting the straps on the twin sheaths that hung across his back.

As the pair proceeded to make their way from the castle, a voice shouted from behind them, "Wait! I'm coming with you!" It was Leliana, who was already wearing her armor and weapons.

"How did you know that we....?" The Warden asked the bard, dumbfounded. "You were hiding in the hallway, eavesdropping on us, weren't you."

"Guilty as charged." Leliana confessed, walking past both men, towards the raised portcullis. "Come on you two. After these past weeks, I need to kill something."

The trio exited through the gate and almost immediately they were swarmed as thousands of people camped outside the gate spotted The Warden and his companions. "Long live the Grey Warden!" they chanted repeatedly as he passed through their midst, continuing on down the path that led to the village below.

Before long, they arrived at the abandoned structure. The Warden signaled for the others to stop and get down out of sight. "What's going on?" Leliana asked.

"Look, there's smoke coming from the chimney. Someone is in there. Stay out of sight while I check it out." The Warden answered, crouching low and slowly going up to the building.

Leliana and Silas watched The Warden for several minutes as he silently moved around the perimeter of the house, carefully looking into each window. When The Warden had seen all he needed, he crept back to the bard and Silas who had hidden behind a large clump of bushes.

"There's four of them alright." he informed the other two, "They don't seem to be expecting anyone. There's no one guarding the doors or windows. Something doesn't seem right. This is almost too easy."

"Let's not question our luck." Silas said as he began to move from his position, "We can take them out quickly."

The Warden held out his hand, halting the youth, "Hold on, Silas. We still need to plan this out."

"What's to plan? Go in there and kill them." Silas replied, ignoring The Warden and preparing for the attack. The youth drew his blade and charged the house.

"Dammit, Silas!" The Warden exclaimed as he pulled his blades from their sheaths and rushed after the boy, Leliana doing the same.

Silas ran up to the front door and kicked it open. "Die blood mage scum!" he yelled as he rushed in with his sword raised.

The battle was fierce, but brief, however, as the four mages proved to be no match for The Warden, Silas, and Leliana. The first two mages fell before they were even able to prepare a single spell. The third blood mage had retreated further into the house, but it did little good as Silas soon caught up with him and cut him down with a single stroke. The fourth and final mage cowered and cringed as he lay wounded on the floor, bleeding freely.

"Why? Why have you done this? We were promised there would be no reprisal." the mage said seeming genuinely surprised by the attack.

"What are you talking about?" The Warden asked him, "Where's the gem?"

"The gem?" The mage asked as he looked up at The Warden and started laughing, "You're too late, Warden." he said.

"Too late for what?"

"We were paid to steal that gem and set the demon it contained free."

"Who paid you? I want answers!" The Warden demanded.

Laughter burst forth from the last blood mage, as he slumped further, his wounds close to claiming him. "I don't know who it was. But I suspect you'll find out soon enough."

"What have you done with the demon? Where is it?"

"You know how it is with demons...they go and do as they please." the mage said, chuckling.

"Enough games!" The Warden shouted, "Tell me what I want to know."

But there was no answer from the blood mage, the only sounds being the final few gurgles he could muster. His eyes slowly rolled back into his head as his life slipped away.

"Dammit, Silas! I told you to wait!" The Warden exclaimed, casting an angry glare at the boy.

"I'm....I'm sorry, Dwemer." Silas replied weakly. "I guess I just got too excited."

The Warden sighed loudly, saying "I guess I should know to expect that from you. Next time, though, we ask questions before we kill. Got it?"

"Got it." Silas dutifully acknowledged.

"Well, whatever it was they were doing, it can't bode well." Leliana said while she wiped the blood from her blade. "Somewhere out there is a demon on the loose and we have no idea where to even start looking."

"And I plan on finding that demon and sending it back to whatever dark pit it came from. But it'll have to wait a bit. I have something I need to take care of first."

"And what's that?" Silas asked.

"I have to get married."


	5. Chapter 5

_I know I don't normally chime in like this, but I felt it was needed in this case. Below lies the chapter many of you have been waiting for, the wedding chapter. And honestly, it was a bitch to write. The ceremony might be the hardest thing I've had to write since I started these stories. Why was it so hard? Well, because I get one chance at this. If I screw it up I can't have The Warden and Morrigan get re-married. I wanted to make sure that it came off just right. It's a key part of the story and in their relationship. I'd really like to know what you guys think about this chapter. It had to have the mushy gushy stuff, but did I over do it, or get it right? _

_And before I forget, thanks for reading. It's why I keep writing. I appreciate all the reviews, favs, watchers, and everyone who has taken time to read this. Now, on to the wedding of the century..._

**Part V**

Nightfall had come once again to Ferelden. All around Castle Cousland campfires dotted the countryside, casting out the darkness. The tent city outside the castle continued to grow as the wedding neared and there was hardly an open space left to pitch a tent. Alistair stood on the castle wall and looked across the rolling hills at the many fires that twinkled in the night, thinking to himself about his friend, The Warden.

All of the people gathered outside the gates had come to see The Grey Warden be wed. It was the event of the a lifetime. These simple folk had come from all over Ferelden and spent their hard-earned coin just so they could be in Highever for the wedding of their hero. Not even the king held such sway with the people, and he knew it. Though he would never officially hold a title, The Warden was still the most popular and powerful figure in Ferelden. He experienced greater adoration from the populace than even Teyrn Loghain enjoyed. Alistair wondered if there ever had been a man so adored by his countrymen.

"There you are." Captain Dyana said, coming up the stone steps to the wall. "I've been looking all over for you. You shouldn't be walking around without escort, your majesty."

"It's alright, captain. We're in a heavily guarded castle full of knights, after all." Alistair replied.

"Still, with this many people around, there are bound to be a few trouble makers in the bunch."

"There always are." Alistair noted, his eyes still fixed on the many specks of faint light.

"I'd feel better if you'd let me send some men into the encampments and take a look." Dyana remarked as she joined the king near the edge of the wall.

"They're just simple people here to see a wedding, Dyana. Nothing more. The last thing they need is a bunch of knights charging through their tents and stirring things up."

"Your majesty, my job is to protect you. I can't do that if you won't let me. Humor me at least a little." the captain urged, "At least take an escort with you where you go. As the king, there are those who would like to do you harm. You're not just a Grey Warden anymore."

"I will _always_ be a Grey Warden, captain. It's not something you can simply un-be. It's a bit more complicated than that."

"Still, your majesty..."

"Alright, you win. I'll take an escort." Alistair said, giving in and bringing a rare grin to the captain's face. She still knew, however, that if someone wanted to, they could cause quite a bit of trouble. And with as many people in the camps as there were, it would turn disastrous.

Meanwhile, in another part of the castle, The Warden was just settling into his temporary lodgings for the night. It was a small room, one that was normally used for guests' servants. It had a bed, chair, a table, and not much else. This would be where he spent his last night as a single man. He would not see Morrigan again until they stood before each other and exchanged vows. At least that was the Ferelden tradition. But the witch had other ideas, as usual. He hadn't been in the room for more than an hour before she came barging in, not even bothering to knock, Seth on her hip.

"_We_ need to talk." she said as she closed the door behind her.

"You do know we aren't supposed to see each other..." he replied.

"I am aware of your silly traditions, yes. We've only shared a bed together these past two years, I fail to see what difference a single night makes. 'Tis but a silly..."

"Morrigan..." he interrupted, "What did you want to talk about?"

"I need to know." she answered with a sigh, setting the child down on the floor to roam freely and plopping down on the side of the small bed.

"Know what?"

"I need to know that this is truly what you desire." she said, folding her hands together on her lap. "I am terrified of losing my freedom...my independence. If I am to do so, I must know that loss has not been in vain."

"Why would you lose your freedom?"

"We shall be _bound together_. Legally. There will be no turning back nor walking away. I will no longer be known as Morrigan, Witch of the Wilds, but Morrigan Cousland, instead." she explained, a deep look of worry on her face, "So tell me that you know in your heart this is what you wish."

"You know you'll always be my wild witch." he replied with a sly grin.

"Can you not be serious for one small moment?" she shot back, annoyed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it..." he said as he stood up from the small chair, walked over to the bed and sat down next to her, putting his arm around her. "Of course it's what I want. It's what I've wanted it for a very long time. Yes, we'll both sacrifice some freedoms, but that's part of the commitment we make to each other. I don't want to control you. You're independence is one of the parts about you I love the most. I would never try to take that away."

"But you already have..." she whispered as she gently placed her hand on his cheek, "for I find myself unable to live without you."

He pressed her body closer to his, she laying her head against him. "Everything will be fine." he said, speaking softly, "After what we've been through already, I'm sure we can handle a this."

"All else we've encountered pales in comparison to what we are about to do." Morrigan disagreed, "But yet, I do this willingly and without trepidation. Damn you, Dwemer Cousland. Damn you for coming into my world and turning everything upside down."

"Everything will be just fine. Trust me, you'll see." The Warden reassured while he lightly ran his fingers down her arm, caressing her.

"It had better be."

* * *

At long last the joyous day had arrived. And what an incredibly gorgeous day it was for a wedding. The sun shone brightly in the cloudless blue sky and a soft warm breeze blew across the countryside. The masses gathered outside the gates danced and celebrated under the clear sky. Music and revelry could be heard ringing out all across the encampments. The entire village below was alive with excitement as ordinary villagers and merchants hurried to finish their tasks in time for the big event. If ever there was a perfect day to be wed, this was surely it.

"They really pull out all the stops for these things, don't they?" Zevran asked Alistair as they stood just outside the doors to the main hall.

"I grew up around this stuff. Believe me, I've seen far worse." the king replied, looking around anxiously, "It figures he'd be late to his own wedding." he mumbled.

"You are aware that an assassin might pick a time such as this to strike. I know, because I've done so myself, on occasion." the elf said in an almost thoughtful manner.

"The castle guard and Captain Dyana have security well in hand. This place is guarded tighter than the royal palace ever was."

"Still, the thought did occur to me and it seems risky to take chances. We could try killing one of the guests as an example, I suppose."

"You can't be serious. Kill one of the guests?" Alistair asked, completely stunned, "And what exactly would that accomplish?"

"To illustrate to our would-be assassin that today may not be the best day to assassinate someone after all. I could kill them quick and painlessly if you like, or much slower if you prefer that, instead."

"I think we'll let the good captain do her job." Alistair said in a uneasy voice.

"Alright, but if you should happen to change your mind..."

"Everything is ready, your majesty." Dyana said as she came down the hallway. She wasn't clad in her usual plate armor, and Alistair almost didn't even recognize her at first. She had let down her long brown hair and it hung about her shoulders loosely, bouncing up and down and she walked. She was garbed in a blue tunic that hung just below her waist and bore the crest of the Theirin family embroidered upon it, a white blouse underneath and form-fitting leather pants. Alistair recognized her outfit as a formal dress uniform. And he thought it suited her very nicely.

"Is something the matter, your majesty?" She asked, noticing his hanging jaw.

"Why...uh...no...Nothing at all." he answered, unsure of why he hadn't noticed how attractive she was before.

"We have a a phrase for these sorts of situations in Antiva: ensalada de la mierda." Zeveran said, noting the king's awkwardness.

"That sounds nice. What's it mean?" Alistair asked.

"Shit salad." Zevran answered.

"Oh...right, then."

"As I was saying, all positions are secure. I have two men at each gate, in addition to the teyrn's men, four stationed in the main hall itself, and one perched the top of the castle north tower. We are ready to proceed." The captain informed the king.

"You might be ready, but we're not." Alistair said, "The groom isn't even here yet."

"Where's he at?" asked Dyana, "We need to get started soon."

"I don't know where he is. He was supposed to be here an hour ago."

"I'll have someone go look for him."

"That won't be necessary." Zevran said as he gestured toward the other end of the corridor. And sure enough, The Warden was finally making his way to the main hall. He was dressed in a dark blue silken sleeveless robe, that was open at the front. On the left breast was stitched the crest of Highever. Beneath the robe he wore a white shirt with a high, drawstring neck line, with a small blue ribbon tied around his right arm. He wore black leather pants that were tucked at the bottom into knee-high black leather boots. About his waist was a thick belt clasped together by a large golden buckle.

"Sorry I'm late." The Warden said, approaching the others.

"Where the hell have you been?" Alistair asked, annoyed, "We've been waiting for you for more than an hour so we can get started. It is _your_ wedding after all."

"It took me a bit longer than I thought it would to get ready. These pants are murder."

"Dyana, go inform Leliana that our long lost groom has finally arrived. We can get started, finally." the king ordered his captain, who in turn, strolled off down the hallway towards the storage room that was converted into a bride's chambers, Alistair's eyes fixed on Dyana and taking in each bouncy step she took the entire time.

"Well, what have we here?" The Warden said upon seeing Alistair's grin.

"What?" Alistair said, snapping out of his trance.

"I think you've got eyes for the dear captain, my friend."

"I have no idea what your talking about." Alistair said, feigning ignorance. "Come on, let's go take our spots."

Inside the great hall of Castle Cousland, many honored guests filled the room, quietly conversing with one another. Friends, family, and even several dignitaries sat in all the chairs that had been placed. The room was heavy with the fragrance of exotic flowers and incense. Hundreds of lit white candles lined the side walls, bathing the whole hall in a soft, shimmering light. In the far corner the musicians were gathered playing a traditional folk song that was popular at Fereldan weddings, the sounds of the flute and vielle echoing throughout the hall.

The Warden would have given Morrigan any kind of wedding she wanted, but surprisingly, a traditional Fereldan wedding was precisely what the witch desired. In her world, there was seldom the type of permanence that marriage offered. There was nothing for her to even compare it to. She once told The Warden that the Chasind view marriage in far different terms than most folk. There is no formal ceremony to speak of; a man simply claimed a woman until he tired of her or she was taken from him. Add to that the fact that no other Witch of the Wilds had ever been wed before, Morrigan thought it only logical to have such a wedding.

In the eastern end of the great hall a stage had been constructed, the floral decorations and satin ribbons obscuring the large fireplace in the wall behind. At the back of the stage was a large wooden chair with deep blue cushions. The chair was covered with many intricately detailed carvings. In the chair sat the revered mother of the Highever chantry, Delarus, patiently waiting to begin the proceedings. She cast an eye at The Warden, followed by a small grin, as he took his place to her right, accompanied by Alistair.

Soon after, Leliana burst into the room, quickly walking up the steps to the stage, going up to the revered mother, and whispered something in her ear. Delarus looked over at the musicians and gave a gentle nod. A hush fell over the room as the musicians started playing the wedding music, indicating to all that the ceremony was starting.

Leliana assumed her position to the revered mother's left, her light blue dress almost seemed to glow in the soft candlelight. The dress was cut to just below the knee and trimmed with white lace. It was the first time The Warden had ever seen her in a dress. Most of the time, the bard preferred more masculine attire and he had never really seen this side of her before.

The large wooden doors swung open and a small boy and girl entered stepping in time with on another in a slow deliberate march, each carrying a small blue pillow that had a gold ring resting on top. Behind them was Morrigan in her blue sleeveless wedding dress. The long train behind being carried by two young maidens.

The witch's hair was put up in a bun that was held in place by a silver comb, set with several small diamonds. A matching diamond covered tiara on her crown twinkled in the light of the many candles. Around her right arm was a blue ribbon that was exactly the same as the one The Warden had tied to himself. She took her place next to Leliana with The Warden thinking she had never looked more beautiful.

She cast a look at him that said _Stop staring at me. I feel uncomfortable enough as it is_.

His return look said to her _You look absolutely beautiful_.

_You are staring at my breasts!_

_Yes...Yes I am._

_Well, stop!_

His reply came in the form of a large grin, Morrigan shaking her head at him.

Delarus stood from the chair and raised her hand to the musicians, causing them to cease playing. Her old hazel eyes looked first at The Warden and then at Morrigan, then, after bowing her head for a quick silent prayer, she began speaking.

"We are gathered together today in the sight of these witnesses and the Maker to join this man and this woman into the bonds of matrimony, that most sacred of institutions. A covenant so honored that the Maker, himself, took the woman, Andraste, for his bride. If there is any man who speaks against this joining let him do so now, or hold his tongue in silence forever after."

The silver-haired priest turned her attention on the couple before her, saying, "If there is any reason at all in your hearts that you should not be wed, confess it now or remain silent forever after." Neither Morrigan nor The Warden spoke, merely looking upon one another with nervous eyes.

"Very well, then." Delarus said as she turned to address The Warden, "Dwemer, will you have this woman, Morrigan, as your wife, to live together in a state of matrimony as decreed by the Maker? Will you love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keeping only unto her for as long as you shall live?"

"I will." he answered, smiling to his bride.

Turning to Morrigan, the revered mother said, "Morrigan, will you have this man, Dwemer, as your husband, to live together in a state of matrimony as decreed by the Maker? Will you love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keeping only unto him for as long as you shall live?"

"I will." she answered softly, looking directly into his eyes.

Delarus reached out and grabbed both The Warden and Morrigan by the hand and brought them together so that they joined. "In accordance with tradition, you will now recite the vows you have written for one another." she said, facing The Warden. "Dwemer..."

"I didn't take me long to think about what I wanted to say to you. I've been waiting to say it for so long." he said, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I never asked to be The Grey Warden. It's not something that comes easy for me. Everyone always expects me to be perfect and they place me on such a high pedestal. They forget that I'm just an ordinary man with emotions and flaws, just like anyone else. But you...You know me. You know my true heart."

He gently squeezed her hands in his, feeling her tremble, "Loving you is the easy part. I was snared the first time I saw you. You are everything I could possibly hope for in a partner and more. You are my equal in all things. And I swear an oath to you that I will spend the rest of my life trying to honor you as a husband."

The witch's eyes stared back at him with a warmth he'd never seen before. The look on her face clearly indicating that she knew exactly how he felt about her and that she, at last, accepted it without shame or remorse.

The revered mother gestured to the witch, indicating it was her turn to speak. "In truth, there is much I would tell you. But as I tried to write these feelings down, I found I was unable." Morrigan admitted, "As much as I desired to tell you, the words would always escape me. Maybe 'tis because there are no words for what I feel."

Morrigan looked down, staring at her hands being held by his. She allowed herself to feel not only the sensation of his touch, but the emotions that accompanied it, letting them wash over her, giving her the strength she needed to find the words. She looked back up at him and said, "If not for you, I would still be lost amid the wilds, foolishly wasting my life. I knew nothing of what it means to love or be loved in return. You showed me those things, and so much more. Your unending patience with me was always a mystery. You accepted me as I was, completely. And asked of me nothing more. I often wondered to myself why you would do these things. But I wonder no longer as I have seen your devotion to me. As I am devoted to you. There was a time when I would view my life's intended direction and such a thing as love was nothing but a foolish distraction, a...weakness, only serving to get in the way. But now...now I cannot bear to be without you. I find myself lying awake at night just to hear you breath...to know that you are truly there beside me and not merely some dream. This maddening affect you have on me is almost unbearable. I cannot help myself...I love you with all my being. There are many things I do not yet understand, but you have my promise that I shall be ever vigilant in my attempt to be the wife you wish me to be."

Never before had the witch spoken to him in such a manner. What she said was completely from her heart and The Warden was touched to his very core by her words. The witch's sincerity moved Leliana to tears, the bard being truly shocked to hear such beautiful words coming from Morrigan.

With a gesture from Delarus, the small boy near The Warden removed the ring from the pillow and gave it to the revered mother, the girl next to Morrigan doing likewise "Bless these rings, O Maker, that those who give and receive them remain ever faithful to one another until they shall pass from this Earth." the priest uttered.

Delarus then handed one of the small golden bands to The Warden who took it from her and placed it on the ring finger of Morrigan's left hand, saying "With this ring, I make you my wife. With my body I will honor you. That which was mine alone, is now yours."

The second ring the priest gave to Morrigan, who in turn took it and slid it onto The Warden's ring finger of his left hand, and said, "With this ring, I make you my husband. With my body I will honor you. That which was mine alone, is now yours."

"Let us pray for the Maker's blessings." the old priest said as she placed a hand on each of the couples shoulder, "Almighty Maker, we ask for your blessing upon this man and woman that they might live faithfully together, honoring their vows to each other and this covenant."

Focusing her attention back on the pair before her, Delarus said, "Let no man pull apart that which the Maker has joined. For as much as this man and this woman have consented to be joined in marriage in the presence of the Maker and these witnesses, pledged their vows to one another, and having exchanged the symbols of those vows, I decree that they are now husband and wife, joined together in matrimony in the name of the Maker and his bride Andraste."  
Looking at The Warden, Delarus said, "You may now kiss your bride."

He slowly leaned in and pressed his lips to Morrigan's, feeling the softness of her lips against his, wrapping his arms around her and embracing her tightly as he gave her a long tender kiss while those assembled burst forth into a riotous cheer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Part VI**

The Warden and Morrigan stood near the large wooden doors to the main hall, shaking the hands of the many well wishers as they departed on their way to the large banquet hall on the second floor were the wedding feast had been laid out. Morrigan stood beside and slightly behind The Warden, allowing him to receive all the congratulatory handshakes, hugs, and kisses, while she politely nodded and smiled. After what seemed like hours, the long procession of guests finally ceased. The sentry on duty closed the door after the last of the guests had filed out, leaving only Leliana, Alistair, Fergus accompanied by Seth, who sat on his uncle's lap during the ceremony, Zevran, and the newlywed couple.

"The ceremony was so beautiful!" Leliana squealed, "It will make for an excellent story."

"Leliana, you will do nothing of the sort." the witch said, "This is one tale that shall remain untold."

"You can't fool me, Morrigan. Underneath all that selfishness and cruelty beats the heart of a romantic." the bard retorted, "What you said was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."

The witch turned her cold glare on the bard, "Allow me to make something perfectly clear to you, what I said was meant for _him_ _alone_. Twas said openly because I thought he deserved at least as much, and for no other reason." Morrigan said in a biting and serious tone, "There will be no stories. Am I understood?"

"How can you say that? There has to be a story!"

"I tire of your insipid drivel. This conversation is finished." Morrigan said as she nodded to the sentry who opened the large door, allowing the witch to exit.

"Oh no you don't!" Leliana exclaimed as she started after the witch, "You're not getting off that easily." The remaining men chuckled as they heard the sounds of the bickering women echoing through the corridor.

"Da!" Seth yelled as he tugged at his father's leg, urging to be picked up.

"There's my big man." The Warden said to his son as he lifted him off the floor and held him in his arms.

"So, how does it feel?" Alistair asked.

"I'm glad it's over with." The Warden replied, sounding relieved.

"And now you get to spend the rest of you life with _her_. Well, I guess that's one way of keeping her from turning you into a toad." the king joked.

"My brother! The married man!" Fergus said, coming up from behind and mussing The Wardens hair. "Our parents would be so proud of you right now."

"Would they, Fergus?" The Warden asked as he shot a look of genuine doubt at the teyrn. "Would they really be proud of me?"

The teyrn, of course knew exactly what his brother was asking. The question wasn't about The Warden's deeds or accomplishments, what parent wouldn't be proud of a child who had saved a nation from destruction? The question concerned his new bride. In his gut, The Warden had always been afraid that his parents would disapprove of his association with the witch.

"I think they would have liked her, Dwemer. I really do." Fergus answered, trying to sound as earnest as he could. "I think they would approve."

"Perhaps we should be finding our way to the feast, no?" Zevran said, "I expect you're new wife will want her husband to make an appearance."

Taking the elf's suggestion, the group made their way to the second floor banquet hall were most of the guests were already busy stuffing themselves on the lavish feast that had been prepared. Roast suckling pig, quail, and venison were some of the items that covered the three long tables lining the room. At the head of the room another table had been set perpendicular to the others, with chairs placed only on the far side facing the guests. The two chairs in the center were reserved for the honored couple. It was one of only a handful of times in Ferelden's history that the king, himself, did not occupy the center seat at a feast. His place was to The Warden's left.

The celebration lasted well into the night as the guests gorged themselves, capping each course with a toast to the honored couple. Many bottles of wine were emptied, music and merriment filled the air. All the while the inebriated party goers were oblivious to the fact the newlyweds had quietly stepped out, unnoticed.

The two found their way outside, to the courtyard. They both stood looking up at the many stars that filled the night sky, him standing behind her with his arms locked about her waist. Neither said a word for a long time. There had been plenty of words said this day and now it was time to let it all soak in for a while. So they stood there quietly and gazed at the heavens.

He inhaled her scent, which was as intoxicating to him as any wine, bringing her closer to him. "Thank you." he whispered in her ear.

The witch, enjoying his attention as usual, asked, "For what?" unsure of her deed.

"For being everything I ever could have hoped for." he answered softly, his warm breath tickling the witch and raising goosebumps all over her body.

"I feel your thanks is premature. When we are both old and feeble we shall see if I still warrant such doting."

The Warden said, "I want to show you something." as he grabbed Morrigan by the hand and led her through the courtyard and up the stone steps to the allure surrounding the castle. He walked over to the edge and looked out across the many specks of light surrounding the castle.

"Do you see them?" he asked.

To which Morrigan answered, "I do."

"Those people out there...to them I some sort of...savior. They think I'm the indestructible hand of the Maker. They have no clue who I really am or what I'm really like. All they know are the stories they've heard about me. They don't know that without you I wouldn't have been able to do any of the things the stories say about me. Well, that changes tonight."

"Dwemer..."

"I think it's time the good people of Ferelden met you."

"Do not dare!" the witch fumed, but it was already too late as he had jumped on top of the parapet. The crowd below immediately broke into a loud cheer upon seeing him. Every person camped around the castle began to race towards where he stood so they could hear their hero as he addressed the large crowd.

After several moments the cheers began to subside and The Warden was finally able to speak, saying, "I am thankful to you all for your warm reception. I feel honored that so many would come to attend my wedding. It's good to know that I've been fortunate enough to touch so many lives. But I couldn't have done it alone. It took the help of many people. In particular, there was someone very special with me the entire time. Someone who made me stronger than I could ever be on my own. I'd like you to meet her..."

Morrigan had retreated back into the shadows of the wallwalk attempting the shun the attention. "You're going to have to do this eventually. They won't leave until you do." The Warden said to her as he gestured for her to join him atop the parapet.

The witch rolled her eyes and groaned. She knew, of course, he was right. Being married to The Warden meant dealing with all aspects of him, including an entire nation that adored him. She held her hand out to him and he pulled her up beside him on the wall. Morrigan's eyes met the sea of people stretched out before her for the first time and her stomach dropped. She clasped his hand tightly in hers and fought the urge to jump back down off the wall with everything she had.

"It's alright. Say something to them." he gently said to her.

"I have no idea what to say."

"Say 'hello'. They're eager to meet my new bride."

Morrigan began to wonder if she wouldn't have been better off marrying the second-most popular man in Ferelden, although that would probably be Alistair. An idea that made her nauseous. The mere thought gave the witch the courage she needed to address the throng before her.

"Greetings good people of Ferelden." she said in a loud, yet shaky voice, "I am Morrigan..."

The witch paused and cast an eye at The Warden, smiling, "Morrigan Cousland."

The crowd erupted into a large and raucous ovation.

* * *

Out in a section of the encampment, a small girl had strayed from the protective glow of her family's campfire. Her curiosity was getting the better of her, and even though her mother had specifically told her not to wander off, she just had to see if there was, in fact, a dog in the next camp. She was sure she could hear the sounds of barking coming from somewhere in the distance and she simply loved dogs. Maybe this dog would play with her, just like the one she had at home.

As the girl sneaked through the tall grass she heard voices whispering. They were arguing about something but she couldn't tell what. She held still and silent, listening to their muffled bickering. Then, without warning, she saw two dark shadows dart past her and run off into the night. After she was sure they were gone, the girl walked to where the figures came from and found that they had left something, but she couldn't tell what it was. The child quickly turned around and rushed back to her camp to get her father.

"I found something!" the girl cried, sticking her head into the white tent beside the fire, "Come quick! I found something!"

Tossing the flap aside, the girl's father crawled out of the comfort of the tent, "What's all this, then?" he asked.

"I found something! Come see!" the girl exclaimed again. Unwilling to wait for her father to realize the urgency of the situation, she grabbed his hand and began to tug on it, urging him on.

"Alright, alright. I'm coming." he muttered and followed his daughter to where she had seen the object. "You stay here and I'll take a look." he said, holding his hand out in front of her while he slowly continued forward..

The man bent down to inspect the large round object left in the tall grass. His hand reached out and he touched it with his fingers, noting the outside was rough and very warm to the touch. He pulled apart the tall blades of grass obscuring his vision, revealing the object and bringing a look of complete horror to the man's face.

"We've got to get out of here! Now!" he shouted to the girl as he picked her up and ran with her in his arms as fast as he could back to his camp.

"Marlina!" he hollered to the tent, "We have to leave now! Let's go!"

"What are you talking about?" a woman asked as she emerged from the tent. "Leave? What for?"

"There's something in the grass! We have to leave now!" he yelled.

"What? What's in the grass?"

But before the man could answer, they all heard it. The pulsing beat of a leathery wing stretched over muscle and bone, flapping against the night sky, followed by the unmistakable roar of a high dragon.

* * *

Leo laid in front of the warm fireplace sound asleep while Seth was doing likewise in his bed on the opposite end of the room. The Warden lay in the bed with his hands behind his head, allowing himself to be lost in the chaotic dance of the flames of the fireplace. Morrigan had shed her bulky wedding dress and was bathing in the large marble tub in their chambers. Other than the fact they were now husband and wife, little else felt different about the evening.

Climbing out of the large basin, Morrigan grabbed a thick white towel and stepped out onto the floor. The sound of the splashing water catching The Warden's attention. He stared at her naked form as she dried herself, watching intently as she would prop one leg on a chair to dry it, and then the other. After casting the towel aside, she snatched a silken robe, wrapped it about herself, and sat down in front of her vanity. She took out the silver comb, freeing her long black hair from its confines as it fell between her shoulder blades. Picking up a brush, she began brushing her hair with long and deliberate strokes, the light of the lamp glistening off each perfect strand.

"Must you always watch me?" she asked, looking at him in the mirror's reflection.

"What's with the robe?"

"Because I find I must completely cover myself in order to brush my hair without your gawking."

"Do you hate it that I find you beautiful? Do you really want me to stop looking at you?" he asked as he raised an eyebrow at her.

"No..." she groaned. "I suppose not. However, 'tis most disconcerting when your gaze is continually fixed on some part of my body."

"Would it help if I wore a helmet so you couldn't see?"

"Impossible man." she said, exasperated.

"I've seen you naked more times than you've seen yourself. You're not really that big on clothes, remember?"

"That may be so. However, there are times when even I desire to be covered. 'Tis not so odd a thing."

"I never said it was..." he said with a puzzled look on his face, "The only thing odd here is the way you're acting."

Morrigan set down the brush and stood from the chair. "'Tis our wedding night. Let us not waste it with such trivialities." she said in a seductive voice while walking toward him. With a quick hop, she was in the bed, kneeling over him, his legs caught between hers.

"Not when there are so many other ways we could be spending our time." she purred as she leaned closer to him, her lips hovering dangerously close his.

"What did you have in..." his coy response was cut short by the witch as she moved in for the kill. Her urgent kissing was all the answer he needed.

He began to pry her robe apart, but she grabbed his hand and stopped him, saying, "No, my love. This night, you are mine and I shall do with you as I please." bringing a wide grin to his face. She leaned over to the lamp, and with a quick puff, blew it out.

The sound of passionate kisses being placed and received in the darkness was broken by the occasional giggle from the witch. "What's so funny?" The Warden asked.

"Your beard...it tickles. Perhaps you should shave it off. After all, I've never seen you without it."

"Shave my beard? I've had it since I could grow one." he said in a somewhat nervous voice, "I _really_ like my beard."

"'Tis but a thought. Something for you to consider." she finished, between planting soft kisses along his neck and down to his shoulders. She untied the drawstring on his shirt and pulled it up and over his head, tossing it aside somewhere on the floor. Her lips explored every inch of his chest, going to each of his nipples in turn and torturing him in the exact same fashion he had done to her on so many occasions. First she lightly nibbled, then sucked softly, then, to top it all off, she placed her mouth just above the now-stiff peak and gently blew, driving him insane.

A noise started to fill the air. A chaotic noise made up of many voices, all of them screaming in terror. Out beyond the castle wall, the people were in a panic as their cries for help rang out into the night, accompanied not long afterward by the deafening roar of something terrible.

There came a rapid banging at the door, the sudden noise startling the sleeping child awake. "My lord! Come quickly! It's urgent!" a man on the other side of the door said, fear in his voice.

The Warden grumbled and jumped out of bed, opening the door to reveal one of the castle's knights standing in the corridor. "What's going on?" The Warden asked.

"Something's attacking the camps around the castle!" was all the knight could reply.

"I'm on my way." The Warden said, turning to gather his weapons and armor.

The situation was not sitting well with the witch, "Tonight of all nights?" she huffed as she walked over to The Warden. "Surely the castle guard can handle the situation without your aid."

A quick glance out the window informed Morrigan of the seriousness of the situation, as her eye caught the site of a large high dragon soaring through the sky, it's gaping black maw spewing a long stream of flame into the terrified mob below.

"Damn!" she muttered, clenching her fists at her sides, "Go. Slay the beast. I shall tend to Seth in your absence."

"Next time I'll let you kill the dragon and I'll watch Seth." he said with a forced smile.

"As usual, I find your humor inappropriate. Do not act a fool. Kill the creature quickly and return to me the instant you are able, and not a moment later." Morrigan commanded, her hands on her hips and a fiery glare in he eyes.

"Does she always talk to you like that?" the knight asked as he and The Warden rushed down the corridor.

"Like what?" The Warden asked in return.

"Ordering you around and all."

"That's not what I heard."

"Pardon, my lord, but perhaps you should have your hearing checked, then." the knight suggested, "What exactly did you hear her say?"

"That's between us, and I'd prefer keeping it that way."

"Yes, my lord." came the knights dutiful reply.

In The Warden's mind he saw it very clearly. The look on her face as she said to him, "Be careful and do not be long. You know how I worry." was a face she had worn on many previous occasions, and no doubt, would wear many times again.

With a hard tug, The Warden jerked the large wooden door to courtyard open and ran down the steps, finding the teyrn and the king already there shouting orders to the knights and soldiers that ran frantically about. He could see the dragon soaring over the camp, belching great balls of flame. The raging fires shrouded the air with plumes of thick, black smoke that rose into the night sky, blotting out the stars.

"Open the main gate and get those people in here!" Fergus yelled to his men.

"Wait! Don't!" The Warden shouted.

"Are you mad? They're being slaughtered out there." the teyrn yelled back.

"Fergus, there's not enough room in here for all of them. We'd be trapped with no room to move. We don't need to get the people in here. We need to get that dragon in here, away from them."

"And just how do you propose we do that?" Fergus asked.

"Leave that to me." The Warden answered, running off back into the castle.

As quickly as he could, The Warden rushed to a special locked chest in the castle armory. It contained some of the powerful and magical weapons he was able to acquire over the course of his travels. Specifically, a quiver of arrows that had lyrium folded into them in such a way as to make them radiate extreme cold, instantly freezing anything they touched, and a magical bow that greatly increased his aim. He took both items from the chest and hurried off deeper into the castle. Finding the stairs to the southwest tower, he ran up them as fast as his legs would carry him, throwing the hatch to the top open and climbing the ladder to the roof.

From the highest point in the castle he was able to see everything. The night was lit up by fires engulfing all the encampments around the castle. He could see the people running in terror from the great beast as it swooped down for another attack. The dragon was still far out of range, and magical though they were, a single frost arrow was bound to do little against a high dragon. He would need something bigger to get the beast's attention.

Drawing his blade, The Warden slashed the cord holding the banner to the tall pole in the center of the roof, leaving one end still anchored in the stone at the base of the pole. He pulled the small rope free and tied one end to a frost arrow. Drawing back the bow with all his strength, The Warden waited for the dragon to come around the castle again to make another pass, and as it did he let loose the arrow which sailed through the air and missed the dragon, continuing on its path until it struck another of the castle's many towers, the magical tip digging deep into the stone and sealing the arrow in place with a clump of ice.

The dragon rounded the castle towers to come in for another pass, coming back across the castle and headed right at the unseen cord stretched across its path. The thin rope was pulled almost to the breaking point as it caught the beast by the neck. A loud "Gawrk!" sound came from the creature, surprised as much as it was hurt. The beast spiraled toward the ground, forcing those in the courtyard below to seek shelter as it plummeted towards them. At the last moment, the dragon's wings unfurled, caught the wind, and kicked up a large cloud of dust, as they propelled the beast up and over the castle wall.

The dragon roared in anger as it flew around the tall southwest tower. A large tremor nearly knocked The Warden from the roof as the creature slammed into the tower, its razor sharp claws biting into the stone. "I think he got it's attention." Alistair said to the teyrn as they watch from the courtyard below.

The dragon raised its horned head over the side of the parapet, blasting forth a stream of flame at the little insect who dared to enrage a high dragon. The Warden's armor, being made of drake scale, was highly flame resistant, but even still, he'd never survive a direct hit from the breath of a high dragon. He jumped to the edge of the wall, underneath the flame, ducking out of the way as best he could.

The dragon was relentless in its desire to roast The Warden. It shot blast upon blast, forcing The Warden to jump and dodge all about the roof of the tower. There just wasn't enough room up there to fight the dragon, he was too confined and the beast knew it as well. It was only a matter of time before the dragon's breath found its target. He would have to move their battlefield to a more open location.

As quietly as he could, The Warden drew his blades, waiting for his moment to strike. When the dragon leaned its long head around to try yet another angle, that's when he made is move. As the dragon started to take in a deep breath, The Warden jumped up and onto the parapet, sticking one of his blades deep into the side of the beast's neck. Blood began to gush forth freely from the wound while the dragon roared in anger. He left the blade buried in the creature, and, griping the handle as tightly as he could, The Warden leaped from the parapet ledge, swinging himself around to the dragon's back.

The dragon let go of the tower and took off into flight, attempting to dislodge the unwanted passenger. The beast flew low near the castle towers, brushing up against them as it flew passed. And when that didn't work, down through the trees, dragging The Warden through the thick branches. His face bore many tiny cuts, his arm was beaten badly and starting to go numb, yet still The Warden did not loosen his grip. He was determined to bring the beast down, whatever the cost to himself.

Taking his other blade, The Warden reached back, and with a mighty swing, sliced the dragon's right wing at the joint, rendering it useless. A shriek of pain and terror came from the creature as they fell to the ground. The Warden pulled back on his buried sword as hard as he could in an effort to urge the beast upward. Both dragon and man came crashing down from the sky, as the beast glanced off one of the towers, smashing the stone and sending large chunks falling towards the men below, before finally slamming into the ground in the courtyard and sliding some yards before stopping.

The dragon tried desperately to raise itself, but it's battered and broken body refused to cooperate. With a final dying gasp, the dragon's head collapsed back to the ground with a loud crash.

Climbing up from behind the dragon, The Warden stood atop the dead monster, a large wound gaping on his forehead and blood coming from his nose and mouth. His breastplate had been completely smashed in and he was having difficulty breathing. Upon slowly making his way off the body, he leaned against it trying to find his wind, but it wouldn't return. He gasped for air in vain. His vision was getting blurry and objects were becoming harder to recognize. He tried to walk, but his legs wouldn't hold him and he collapsed to the ground. He heard someone yelling "Dwemer!" and then everything went black.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part VII**

Alistair, Zevran, and Fergus all carried The Warden up the stairs and to his chambers, where they found Morrigan already standing in the corridor waiting for them. "Quickly, get him to the bed!" she ordered as they hauled him through door and laid him on his bed.

"Now go! Leave me! I've work to do." she commanded.

"Are you sure you won't need any help..." Alistair offered, his voice tapering off when the witch shot an icy glare at him. "Right, then. I was just leaving."

The three men filed out the door and into the hallway outside. Others from the castle were beginning to gather outside the door as well, as news of The Warden's condition began to spread. Leliana stood with her hands clasped in front of her, trying her best to peer into the room and get a look at The Warden's injuries for herself. Morrigan noticed the crowd forming, went over and closed the door, ensuring her privacy from the prying eyes.

"You stupid, stupid bastard!" she muttered under her breath while she began the laborious task of removing his armor. "What could you have possibly been thinking? You refuse to be satisfied until your recklessness gets you killed."

Peeling away his crushed breastplate and removing the shirt beneath, the witch revealed the unmistakable sickly purple and greenish bruising of broken ribs covering nearly all of his chest. A gasp escaped her. Never before had she seen him in such a condition. He had been wounded in battle many times and kept a collection of scars on his body like mementos, but he was hurt far worse than she'd ever seen him. Terror started to replace her rage as the thought of The Warden not surviving his wounds crept over the witch.

Occasionally he would regain partial consciousness and babble incoherently for a few seconds before slipping out again. Morrigan's nerves were becoming more frayed with each passing minute as there never seemed to be an end to his injuries, always finding another that needed attention; her hands and clothes stained with his blood. And so it went, all through the night, as the witch fought desperately against the hand of death so her warden might draw breath at least one more time.

She talked to his motionless form while she worked with frantic hands, saying, "Why can you not lay down your sword? Why must you always play the hero? You no longer have to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders. Especially now. Especially since...since..." Morrigan paused, looking at him, afraid to even speak the secret she'd been carrying for some time now, "_Damn you..._" she whispered, bowing her head.

* * *

The next morning Fergus and Alistair viewed the carnage first hand as they rode out into the camp to survey the damage. Everywhere they looked there were people who were burned and bloodied by the dragon's attack. The normally beautiful meadow was now lined with black scorch marks, burnt tents, and so many bodies.

"How many deaths, Dyana?" Alistair asked his captain as she rode up to him with a status report

"Two hundred and seventeen people, your majesty. Seventy two elves...twenty five dwarves...and one hundred twenty humans"

"No need to separate them, captain. They all died together." the king said.

"This was no random accident. High dragons just don't appear over Highever for no reason." Fergus said.

"I'm inclined to agree." Alistair replied.

"I've got my men combing the camp, looking for anything that can tell us who did this."

"Coordinate your efforts with the teyrn's men, Dyana. We can cover more ground if we work together."

"Yes, your majesty." Dyana said as she spurred her steed into a full gallop.

Knights and guardsmen poured into the camps around the castle, talking to everyone and searching for any clues to the culprit's identity. And even though the castle garrison was at full strength, there were tens of thousands of people to interview. A process that would take days, if not weeks.

The people were getting restless enough as it was. Most of them had already packed and made ready to leave, not wanting to be around for the next dragon attack. Small, localized riots developed in pockets about the camp and had to be quelled when the people were informed that he king forbade them from leaving until further notice.

Slowly and methodically, soldiers went from person to person and interviewed them in great detail. Young and old alike were questioned. Most claimed to have witnessed nothing the prior night, but a select few said they saw several pairs of individuals sneaking about the encampment in the dark, though none knew what these prowlers were up to. That is, until the soldiers came across a little girl and her family.

Their tent and everything they brought with them had been destroyed in the attack, but thankfully all had survived and the girl was able to tell the armored men about the object she saw someone leave in the tall grass. She was even able to show the soldiers were they had left it. The men, realizing instantly what the object was, snatched it up and raced to inform the king.

"Your majesty! We found something!" the soldier shouted as he approached Alistair and Fergus. "This is what the mysterious figures left in the grass." he said as he held out the large round object to the king.

"A dragon's egg." Alistair said, "So the creature _was_ led here deliberately."

"Looks that way. Dragons are very protective of their eggs." Fergus agreed.

"But who would do such a horrible thing?"

"I don't have a clue. But I have a feeling that whoever it is, isn't done yet."

"What do you mean?" the king asked.

"We were meant to find the egg. This whole incident was a message. Someone's trying to tell us that their about to stir up trouble."

"Just great. We haven't had any trouble in almost a week. I was starting to get bored." Alistair said sarcastically.

* * *

As the long shadows of evening enveloped the castle in its grip, a low groan came from The Warden as he slowly came around after lying unconscious for many hours, Morrigan having never left his side. His breathing was still very labored and hadn't gotten any better since he received his injuries; something that troubled the witch very much.

"Morrigan...?" he muttered weakly, barely even able to be heard.

"Lie still. You've been wounded." she said to him in a soft voice.

"I can't breathe..." he strained to say, every effort going into forming the words.

"Try not to talk. You've broken most of your ribs, your left arm in two places, and sustained a nasty blow to your head. 'Tis a wonder you still live at all." she said as she looked at him with red, puffy eyes. "There are things still deeper within you that are damaged as well. 'Tis why you struggle for air. Those wounds...I cannot heal...'tis beyond my abilities..." she said, her voice beginning to crack from the emotion and stress.

"You've been crying..."

"Shh. Do not concern yourself with me right now."

"I'm so sorry..."

The witch said nothing at first, merely looking at him and doing her best to remain composed, but even though his sight was failing him, The Warden could see the worry in her eyes and the toll his condition was taking on her. "Is it your aim to make me a widow so soon?" she finally asked.

"Of...course not..." he gasped.

"I cannot do this, Dwemer. You cannot expect me to have to continually deal with this. You have a family now. What of us?" she pleaded with him.

"What...was I...supposed..to do?"

"You could have let the others help. You could have let someone else take the risk for once."

"Who...?"

"Does it matter? So long as you are not the one getting hurt."

"No more. I promise. No more..." he muttered, his voice fading as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

"Oh, my love," she whispered as she looked at his broken body, "were it only as easy as simply making a promise."

Morrigan placed her hand on his right arm and held it there for a while and lightly stroked it. His ragged breathing was getting worse and there wasn't anything she could do about it. She hated feeling helpless, yet that's exactly what she was. Unless something could be done, her warden would surely not survive much longer.

Someone knocking at the door caught Morrigan's attention. She called out, "Who disturbs me?" in an annoyed voice.

"It's Silas. I heard what happened." a young voice said from the other side of the door.

Raising up from her chair next to the bed, the witch went over and cracked the door slightly, peering through the tiny slit. She saw the youngest of the Grey Wardens standing outside with an anxious look on his face. "Please, let me come in." he said.

"He is in no condition to receive visitors. He needs his rest. I shall inform him that you were here when he awakens." was the witch's reply.

"I can help. Please, let me in just for a moment." The lad said urgently.

"How can you possibly help? I was not aware Grey Wardens were skilled in healing."

"I'm no healer, but I do know of something that might work...something magical."

As much as she didn't want to admit it, Morrigan was getting desperate, and while she was never one to grasp at straws, magic was something that she intimately familiar with. She was convinced it was the only thing capable of saving The Warden's life at this point.

"You may enter." she said, opening the door all the way and allowing him entrance, "But be quick. I've little time to devote to conversation."

"Thank you." Silas replied as he stepped through the doorway and into the room, the witch closing the door again with a loud slam as soon as he was inside.

The young warden saw his mentor laying still in the bed, battered, bruised, and covered in bandages. Beside his bed were several vessels of water, some stained with blood, others fresh and ready to be used to keep The Warden's many wounds clean. Old dressings had been cast into a metal pail that was nearly full of blood-soaked cloth while a stack of fresh bandages lie on the small table next to the bed.

"Maker...he looks in rough shape." the lad noted.

Morrigan had been working without rest to keep her warden alive and it was taking a visible toll on her. "I invited you in because you bring news, not to stare at my husband." she said, her patience wearing extremely thin.

"Right..." Silas replied, his eyes still fixed on The Warden, "I might know of something that can help him. It's a talisman and, as luck would have it, it's not too far from here."

"A talisman? What sort?"

"It's supposed to have healing properties...it can cure any physical ailment. As long as his wounds aren't magical in nature, it should work. I heard about it while I was tracking the blood mages to Highever, it was offered to me as a bribe from one of the mages I questioned, but I had no need of it so I turned him down."

"And this mage who knows its location? Where might he be?"

"Uhm...he's dead. Like I said, I had no need of the talisman at the time."

"Then you have done nothing but waste my time." Morrigan quipped while she started to guide Silas to the door with her hand.

"Wait..." the lad pleaded, "The mage told me where it was before he died."

"Before you killed him, you mean." Morrigan said with her arms folded and eyes glaring, "I've no times for games, boy. Tell me what I need to know."

"On the coast of the Waking Sea, east of here, near Amaranthine, is a small inlet. There's a cave used by bandits and smugglers. It's concealed from view but I'm pretty sure I can find it. That's were the talisman is." Silas explained as best he could, the witch's attitude making him very nervous.

"Are you certain?" Morrigan asked.

"Yes, I'm positive. I can leave immediately to go after it." the young warden answered.

"I shall accompany you." the witch said as she opened her large wardrobe, grabbed a knapsack, and began grabbing items and placing them inside.

"I don't need help. I can do this on my..." Silas' comment cut short by Morrigan's glare, "Then again, help is always...helpful."

Going over to the door to the room, Morrigan opened it, and seeing Leliana, Alistair, and Zevran, who had been waiting outside the door all night, said, "You three, gather your things and meet me in the courtyard. We've a journey to make."

"Now wait just a minute." Alistair exclaimed, "You've been locked up in there all night and you haven't told us anything. You won't even let us see him. And now we're supposed to pack our bags for a trip because _you_ say so?"

Morrigan's reply was as swift as it was ice cold, "Alistair, allow me to be clear, he yet lives but his condition worsens by the moment. If you are quite done being an arrogant imbecile and truly willing to help a man whom you say is your friend, then I highly suggest you close your mouth, pack your things, and meet me in the courtyard."

"Ouch." Zevran said, wincing.

"Morrigan...I..We're just worried about him, that's all." Alistair said, much more subdued.

"While 'tis both understood and appreciated, we've precious little time for sentimentality. There may be a way to cure him but it will require us to leave for several days. He may not last that long so time is of the essence."

"Right, We'll meet you in the courtyard." the king said

* * *

"There are no roads where we're going so it's going to be all on foot. Horses would only slow us down." Silas said as the group gathered in the courtyard, ready to leave.

"And just exactly how far is this cave?" Morrigan asked.

"About a day's travel east. If we hurry, we can be back here by tomorrow night or the next morning." Silas answered.

"Fergus and Captain Dyana will keep searching for who's responsible for the dragon attack while we're away." Alistair said as he slung his backpack over his shoulder, "Hopefully they'll have some answers by the time we get back."

With a wave from the witch, the guardsmen in the gate tower turned the large wheel opening the main gate, which creaked loudly as it swung wide. Morrigan and the rest of her party passed through the gate and into what was left of the surrounding encampment. Near the gate a makeshift altar had been constructed which was covered by many lit candles and letters of prayer asking the Maker to heal The Warden. Huddled around the altar, many common people knelt in vigilant prayer on The Warden's behalf. Upon seeing the witch, many of the camp's inhabitants approached seeking any news on his condition and to offer condolences.

"Maker bless you in your time of trouble, lady Morrigan." one said to her.

"The Warden is in our prayers." said another.

A large gathering started to form around the party as they made their way from the castle. Most offered words of sympathy, while a few others even bore gifts. One young girl handed Morrigan a small bundle of wildflowers, saying, "I picked these for The Warden. Could you make sure he gets them? I know he'll be alright. He just has to be. Nothing can hurt him."

Morrigan was truly touched by the outpouring of support from these people whom she had never met before. She accepted the flowers from the girl without saying a word, only giving a small smile and a nod.

None of these people were capable of slaying a high dragon, if not for The Warden, most of them would surely be dead. He was their protector. Their savior. And they adored him for it. Morrigan was beginning understand why The Warden did the things he did for them: because they needed him to and he was able.

The party traveled east from Castle Cousland, heading for the coast of the Waking Sea. If their luck held, they could be there by nightfall. Silas said that the cave should be deserted this time of year, at least that's what the mage had told him. Getting in and finding the talisman should prove to be fairly easy. But as the witch was finding out, when it comes to The Warden nothing is ever easy.

The going was tedious over the rough terrain, as many hills, gullies, and patches of thick underbrush had to be navigated. Most of the group walked together as they traveled, except the witch, who stayed back from the rest a bit, keeping to herself as best she could. After a while, Leliana noticed Morrigan lagging behind, and thinking the witch depressed over The Warden, decided she would do her best to lift Morrigan's spirits, reasoning that everyone could use a friend once in a while, even a cold hearted witch of the wilds.

"He's going to be alright, you know." the bard said as she slowed her pace to match Morrigan's

"Hmmm...?" the witch said as if her mind had been elsewhere.

"Dwemer...he's going to be fine." Leliana reiterated.

"Of course he will." the witch replied, still seeming distracted.

Leliana raised a curious eyebrow at the witch, "There's something different about you, lately." she noted, not quite able to place her finger on it.

The bard's words gained the full attention of the witch who asked, "How do you mean?"

"I'm not sure." Leliana replied as she thought about it, "Well...for one thing, you're actually wearing clothes. Not that you don't normally, but usually a lot less of them."

"Perhaps, I simply decided that I prefer the expensive clothing I've never had the opportunity to wear before."

"No, that's not it. You're trying to hide something."

"I will not play this ridiculous game with you." Morrigan snapped back, eager to end the conversation.

"Now I'm sure you're hiding something. What could it possibly be?"

"Leliana, you are behaving like a child. Stop this foolishness at once."

Instead, the bard looked the witch over with a keen eye, looking for any discernible crack in Morrigan's story. She let out a loud gasp as it hit her. "You're _pregnant_!" she cried.

"You will keep your voice down!" Morrigan huffed.

"I knew it!" Leliana squealed, "Does he know?"

"No, he does not. I've not had the opportunity to tell him."

"You've had plenty of chances to tell him. You've been keeping it a secret on purpose. Why?"

"He dotes on me entirely too much as it is. The last thing I need is for him to order an entire castle to care for me. I had intended to tell him when we moved into the cottage after our trip to Redcliffe. But that has since changed." Morrigan explained.

"You must be pretty far along if your trying to hide your belly."

"As near as I can figure, just over two months." the witch replied, and with a stern look, said, "You have found out my secret. You are to tell no one. Am I clear, Leliana?"

"I won't tell." Leliana said, still giddy over the news.

Having noticed the two women trailing behind, Alistair went to see what the reason was for their slower pace, "What are you two doing back here?" he asked.

"Morrigan is pregnant!" the bard blurted out.

"Leliana!" Morrigan exclaimed. "I said tell _no one_!"

"It's only Alistair. He doesn't count."

The witch rolled her eyes and groaned.

"Uh...congratulations?" Alistair offered meekly.

* * *

The vision in his eyes was clear once again as The Warden woke from what seemed like a long horrible nightmare. He took in a deep breath and for the first time there was no pain in his lungs or fiery burning in his throat. There was no rattling in his chest and no constant throbbing ache. He could move his left arm freely without pain. It was completely healed. He was completely healed. He looked over to see Morrigan sitting in her normal spot beside the bed smiling at him.

"Morrigan?" he asked, stunned, "What happened?"

"'Tis not obvious? You've been healed." she replied, her beautiful golden eyes being staring back at him.

"But how?"

"You are well, 'tis all that matters right now." she answered, being evasive.

His astonishment soon turned to regret, as he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I promise it'll never happen again. From this moment on, The Grey Warden is retired."

"Do not be so quick to still your blades, my love, for soon, there will be need of them again."

"What do you mean?" he asked with a puzzled look, "I thought that's what you wanted?"

"And why would I want something so foolish as that? In these troubled times, your talents will be required. Sooner than you think." she answered.

"What are you talking about? You're not making any sense."

"Soon, my love, all will be revealed. A storm is coming to sweep away the vermin and filth of this land. We must ensure we are prepared when it arrives."


	8. Chapter 8

**Part VIII**

The air was thick with the mist of the sea as large waves repeatedly crashed upon the rocks, sending billowy clouds of spray and vapor into the air. Morrigan and her companions hid behind an outcropping of rock that was soaked from the continual mist that drenched it. Silas assured the witch that this was indeed the inlet they were searching for. Somewhere close by a cave lie hidden from view, and in that cave lay the only hope of life The Warden had. Morrigan was not leaving this place without it.

"I don't see anything." Alistair said as he peered around.

"We'll have to get closer." Silas replied and he started to hop from behind the rocks and move in closer to the water's edge to get a better look.

"Foolish boy." Morrigan muttered under her breath, "He will be the death of us all."

Much to the young warden's surprise, the witch reached out and grabbed him by his arm and held him back., saying "If we are to do this, then it shall be done my way. Reckless heroics is the sole reason we are here." Morrigan then directed Zevran and Leliana to quietly scout ahead while the rest of the group remained back by the outcropping.

The assassin and the bard stealthily combed the area looking for anything that might be out of place or out of the ordinary. For many long minutes they crisscrossed their way back and forth along the shoreline from one end of the inlet to the other, until at last the elf indicated that he found something. There was a small pile of rocks that were a slightly different color than the rest and they appeared to be stacked in such a way as to conceal something.

Leliana and Zevran began moving the stones while the rest of the party moved from their location behind the rocks and joined the two in uncovering what lay beneath the pile. And before long, a hole in the side of the bank was revealed; a small opening about four feet tall.

Morrigan looked into the cave and saw nothing but pitch black. Not even a faint glimmer of light shone inside the cavern. She felt her stomach becoming unsettled as she thought about the tight, cramped spaces the lay ahead. "Of all places, it had to be a cave." she thought to herself.

Alistair removed his backpack, set it on the ground, and began rummaging through it trying to find something. After a bit of searching, he pulled out three torches, some tinder, and a flint from within the pack, followed soon by a grumble.

"What's the problem?" Leliana asked.

"The tinder is wet. I can't light the torches." Alistair answered.

"Alistair, sometimes you are completely useless." the witch quipped, holding out her hand, "Give them to me."

Morrigan held her hand up to the end of the torch and a bright flash sparked from her palm, causing the torch to burst into flames. She touched the other torches to the one that was lit, igniting them as well. Passing a torch to Leliana and Zevran, she said, "It appears as if the cave is abandoned after all. Come, let us find this talisman quickly." and ducked into the opening, vanishing into the darkness.

"Do you always let her talk like that to you?" Silas asked the king while the others followed Morrigan into the cave.

"She doesn't mean anything by it, I'm sure. She's only worried about Dwemer." he answered.

"Still... you _are_ the king. I would never let any of my subjects talk to me like that."

"You have a lot to learn, yet. Things that are stiff and rigid generally break quickly. That isn't the kind of king I want to be." Alistair said, patting the younger warden on the back, "Now let's hurry before we get left behind. They have all the torches, remember?"

Just inside the opening, the cavern spread out considerably and became larger. All around the sound of dripping water could be heard. Stalactites hung from the ceiling and stalagmites rose from the floor like so many rows of dagger sharp teeth ready crush an unwary victim at any second, their wet and shiny surfaces reflecting the torchlight and making the cave even brighter. To the south led a passageway that was carved into the solid stone. The passageway was man-made, with smooth walls and a long, straight path heading deeper underground.

"Do you hear that?" the bard asked as a cracking and popping sound was accompanied by low rumbling noise from somewhere deep in the tunnel.

"This passage was definitely not carved out by dwarven miners. The walls are weak and crumbling from the wet ground above." the elf commented, adding with a groan, "And my boots are getting soaked."

"What we're looking for is kept in a small gold box." Silas informed while the group started down the passage.

The group followed the passageway which ran for several hundred feet before coming to a small opening. This area appeared to be some form of junction as corridors were both to the left and the right as well as one that continued forward. Morrigan looked down both the left and right passages repeatedly, as if unsure where to go next.

"Which way?" Leliana asked.

"Damn..." the witch said in frustration, "How would _he_ proceed?"

"He'd turn this place upside down, searching out every nook and cranny." the king answered.

"But we haven't time for that." Morrigan replied, trying hard to think, "Leliana ...You shall scout one passage while Zevran and Silas inspect the others. I will remain here and protect Alistair from himself." she finished as she gave Silas her torch and held out her palm, a bright bluish flame bursting forth that was far brighter than all the torches combined.

"Hey!" Alistair exclaimed, "You make it sound like I'm a walking accident."

"May I remind you exactly who it was who set his _own_ foot aflame in the deep roads?"

"I remember that." Zevran said, "Wasn't that when he lost his sock...?"

"No," Leliana corrected, "You're thinking of when he wandered off and we had to..."

"Alright, alright! Let's just drop it." Alistair interrupted forcefully, "Fine. I'll stay here and _be_ _protected_".

Silas, Leliana, and Zevran each ventured down a different corridor, the light from their torches fading from view. It was Leliana who returned first after checking the southern passage. She informed the others that it did indeed lead further south and emptied into a large chamber at the end. Zevran was next to return from the tunnel that led east, having found nothing of interest, noting that the passage led to a small storage room that was almost empty.

The western tunnel began to flicker with the faint glow from Silas' torch as he made his way back to the others. As he came into view, panic crossed his face as the ground beneath his feet began shaking. Cracks were forming in the rock all around him, breaking off shards of stone as the tunnel wall began to split. There was little doubt what was happening.

The witch shouted, "Run Silas! The tunnel is collapsing!"

Silas broke into the fastest run he was able, driven by fear and desperation. He dodged large fragments of rock and leaped over a mounds of dirt that fell from the ceiling while he fled as quickly as he could. But it wasn't enough as the walls of the tunnel came crashing in on him before he could clear the opening. Dust clouded the air and a large pile of rubble and debris totally sealed off the western tunnel.

"No!" Morrigan cried as she dug her hands into the rock trying in vain to clear the rubble.

"Morrigan, It's too late." Alistair said, "The entire passageway collapsed on him. No one could have survived that. Not even Dwemer."

"We have to try, Alistair!"

"He's gone, there's nothing you can do about it now. We need to keep moving before the tunnel collapses on us as well."

"How can you be so callous? And you say I am cold."

"We all knew the risks coming here. Even Silas. It happens, Morrigan. It wasn't your fault."

"Twas I who sent him to his death. 'Tis a feeling I dislike very much."

"We all do, and it never gets any better, either. The best thing we can do now is find this talisman so Silas won't have died in vain."

As much as she didn't want to, Morrigan abandoned her attempts at digging for the young warden who now lay buried under untold tons of rock. It was becoming all to clear to the witch that being the leader of a group wasn't nearly as easy as The Warden made it out to be. She felt it was her mistake that cost Silas his life, and Morrigan hated making mistakes. "Quickly, then." she said, darting off down the southern corridor

Just as Leliana said, the tunnel did continue straight for several hundred more feet. An occasional groan from the surrounding walls spurred the group on more rapidly. Finally, at the end they came into a larger round chamber. It looked to be where the bandits would bunk, as there were several cots lined up along one of the walls. A desk sat across from the beds against the opposite wall, no doubt were the smugglers and thieves kept their ledgers.

"'Twill be in a small golden box." the witch said, remembering what Silas had told her before.

"There it is!" Leliana exclaimed pointing to the box as it sit on the desk.

Morrigan ran over, snatched the box from the desk and pulled the top open. A look of panic and confusion washed across her face. "I do not understand." she said, "The box is bare. There is nothing here."

"Are you sure he said a golden box?" Leliana asked.

"Yes, I am quite sure. We were all there, you heard it as well. Silas most assuredly said twas in a small golden box!" Morrigan snapped back, starting to get very agitated, saying, "Search the entire room! It must be here somewhere!", desperation starting to creep into her voice.

The party turned the room inside out trying to find any hint of the talisman without any results. Morrigan was growing more frustrated by the minute. When they searched the room from top to bottom and still found nothing the witch cried out, "'Tis not here! The damn thing is not here!"

"I have a feeling we've been duped." Zevran remarked, "Perhaps it would be best to leave this place."

"Who would want to do such a thing?" Morrigan asked, still fuming.

"Probably the same people who were responsible for the dragon attack." Alistair replied.

"We're not going to find anything here. We should go while we still can." Leliana said.

The group hurried back down the tunnel to the mouth of the cave, a lump forming in the throat of the witch as they passed by the pile of rubble were the west passage had been. They exited the cave and found themselves back out in the bright sunlight, all of them having to shield their eyes momentarily after being in the darkened cave for so long. "It's about time. I was starting to get impatient." a voice said from somewhere above them.

The party turned to see two men on horseback, one older man wearing a red robe, the other wore a hooded black robe that concealed his face from view. They were accompanied by eight bowman perched atop the rocks above the shoreline. All of the archers with their weapons drawn and at the ready, the deadly arrows aimed at each member of the group below.

"Twas a trap!" the witch exclaimed, realizing too late.

"How very astute of you, my dear." The older man said.

"Why? Why lure us from Highever. What possibly have you to gain?"

"There have been too many wrongs allowed. We intend to correct them. Starting with The Warden's maleficar whore and the weak king who permitted this blasphemy."

Morrigan's only response was a slight nod to the others in the party. With a quick motion, she thrust out her hand towards the men above them and a bright flash burst forth, stunning and blinding their would-be assailants and causing their horses to rear back in panic. A few archers managed to get a shot off, though their blurred vision caused them to miss badly and the arrows harmlessly bounced off the rocky shore. The group used the opportunity to scramble away from the cavern's mouth and up the rocky ledge.

"After them! They must not be allowed to escape!" the man in the red robe shouted.

The bowmen dropped their bows, drew their blades, and began to give chase to Morrigan and the others who had already ducked into the thick scrub that ran along the shoreline. The two men on horseback listened as a loud roar erupted from somewhere in the bush, followed by the blood curdling scream of a man dying a gruesome death. Soon the cries of another man could be heard, this one from a completely different direction, then another. And so it continued as each of the party members stalked the soldiers through the dense underbrush and killed them off, one by one.

When all the soldiers had been dispatched, the group reappeared from the scrub and stood in front of the two men on horseback. "Twas you that was responsible for the dragon." Morrigan said, "'Tis your fault The Warden lies badly wounded. I shall see you dead for that."

The witch's body began to crackle and pop and magical energy surged around her as she charged her spell. Both men spurred their steeds into a gallop in a bid to flee the scene as quickly as possible.

Morrigan flung forth bolts of magical lightning that hissed as they arced through the air and struck a tree, causing it to fall over directly in the path of the two escaping men. The man with the red robe fell off his horse as the beast reared back trying to avoid the fallen tree and then ran off into the brush, leaving the older man crawling across the ground gasping for air. The man in the black robe kicked his feet into his steed's side and with a mighty jump, beast and man cleared the trunk and disappeared into the brush beyond.

Rolling onto his back, the red robed man saw the witch and party approaching him. "You will tell me your purpose!" Morrigan exclaimed to him, drawing her blade and placing it's keen edge against his neck.

"My purpose?" the man laughed, "My purpose was to kill you and the king. Obviously, I failed in that."

"Who would want us dead? Tell me!" She yelled at the man that cowered beneath her.

"You can't stop it, you know." he replied, "You can kill me but it's already too late. Our reach goes farther than you could imagine. We're everywhere."

"How did you know we would be here? Who told you?" the witch demanded.

"You made quite a scene when you left Highever. All of northern Ferelden knew you had departed from the castle. It was easy enough to follow you here."

"So you conjure up a phantom talisman knowing full well I would come after it."

The only response the man offered was a low chuckle that slowly turned into a full laugh. With one quick movement, the man pulled out a dagger he had hidden in the sleeve of his robe and lunged at Morrigan. The witch swung her blade and separated the man's head from his shoulders in one clean slice. The man's body fell backwards, limp and lifeless.

"He did that on purpose. He knew you'd kill him." Alistair noted.

"Dead men tell no secrets." the elf agreed.

"My experiences would lead me to think otherwise." Morrigan said, "Dead men tell the best secrets. The challenge lies in extracting them."

"We should get back to Highever. I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of our dark stranger and whoever is behind this might try to do something to Dwemer." Leliana suggested.

"Agreed." said the witch as she wiped the blood from her blade on the dead man's carcass and placed it in it's sheath against her right waist.

"You're starting to get pretty good with one of those." Alistair said as he pointed to the sword at her side.

"Dwemer has been teaching me for the past few months. He seems to think I've a natural talent for killing things."

"I would hardly be one to disagree with him."

The party made their way back to Highever as quickly as they could given the rough terrain. Clumps of scrub and uneven ground for much of the way made the going rough and slow. They continued on through the night, not bothering to make camp. By moonlight they trudged through the underbrush, until, just as the sun was starting to rise in the east, the tops of the towers at Castle Cousland became visible in the distance.

If Morrigan hadn't been carrying her own pack for once, she would have taken her bird form and rushed ahead to the castle. Instead she stayed with the others as they slowly walked back to the castle, their pace being much slower than she would have preferred. The sun was completely risen as the group passed the main gates to the castle, it was then that Morrigan could wait no longer and broke into a run, rapidly climbing the courtyard stairs, and going through the doors into the castle.

Some of the guards cast curious glances at her as she hurried through the castle corridors on her way to her private chambers. Reaching the door, the flung it open and rushed inside only to discover the room was empty. Everything was just as it was before she left except the fact that The Warden was not in the bed. He wasn't anywhere in the room at all.

Morrigan turned and ran back out the door. "Where is he?" she asked the first guard she came across in a cold, cutting tone.

"H..He left, my lady." was the guard's nervous answer, almost as if he was surprised by her question.

"Left? With whom?"

"You don't remember?"

"Out with it. With whom did he leave?" the witch demanded

"You..." the guard replied, his face scrunched up in confusion, "He left with you."

"Have you been drinking? He most certainly did not leave with me. I've been gone for the past two days."

"I swear, that's what I saw. The other guards saw it, too."

Morrigan turned and walked down the corridor, headed for the teyrn's study. On the way she passed through the castle foyer just as the rest of the group was making it inside. Seeing her hurry down the hallway, and after a few puzzled looks were exchanged, they in turn followed.

Grabbing the small, ring-shaped handle, Morrigan opened the door to the study and went inside. "Yes, of course. Come right on in." Fergus said in a sarcastic tone as the witch stormed up to his desk.

"He's gone." the witch informed as the rest of the group filed into the room.

"I know he's gone. He left with you, remember?" the teyrn replied.

"He did no such thing. I've not even been here."

"It seems there is an impostor on the loose. And quite a competent one, as well." the elf noted.

"Who could pull off such a convincing act? You heard the guards, they all swore up and down that it was Morrigan." Alistair said.

"The demon!" Leliana exclaimed as she snapped her fingers.

"What demon?" Morrigan asked, folding her arms.

"When we went after the blood mages it was because they had acquired a gem which served as a prison for a demon." The bard began to explain, "We were not in time to prevent them from freeing it and the creature was long gone by the time we arrived. We were unaware of even what form of demon it was. Until now, that is."

"A succubus." Morrigan concurred with a nod, "It does seem to make sense."

"Working with blood mages...disgusting." Alistair said, "Whoever these people are, their not as righteous as they want us to think."

"Who would send a desire demon after The Warden?" Alistair wondered aloud.

"And better still, who would be capable of controlling such a creature?" Zevran added.

"How did he not know twas not I?" Morrigan asked, "His infernal connection to me should have told him as much."

"Maybe the demon can block it somehow. Who knows?" Leliana said with a shrug.

"We must go after him." Morrigan declared.

"Do you think that's wise? After all, we did get ambushed outside the cave. Someone is definitely trying to kill us and I don't think they'll stop until they've succeeded." the king remarked.

"You were attacked?" Fergus asked, shocked by the news, "Who would do something like that?"

"We don't know, but we think it might be the same people who were responsible for the dragon attack." the king answered. "Either way, we need to find out who these people are and what they're after. Leliana, Zevran, and I will go search for Dwemer while you keep digging here."

"And what of me?" the witch snapped, "If your intent is to leave me behind, you had better think again."

"Morrigan, I know you want to find him more than anybody. But it probably won't be safe. Don't you think a woman in your condition..."

"My _condition_ is none of your concern, Alistair" the witch blurted out, interrupting the king.

The teyrn raised an eyebrow in confusion, "Condition...? What condition?" he asked.

"Oh...Morrigan is pregnant." Lelaina informed flatly, as if it was old news to the bard.

"Leliana!" Morrigan shouted, "Is there no one you will not tell my secrets to?"

"What secret?" the bard quipped, "Everybody knows."

"Because _you told them_!" the witch fumed, casting a glare at Leliana.

"Well, perhaps the king is right..." Fergus said.

"Nonsense." Morrigan huffed, "He is _my_ husband and _I_ shall lead the search for him. Am I understood?"

"But we don't even know where to start looking." Alistair added, "It could takes days."

"He is The Grey Warden. Do you not think people would have noticed him if he were to leave the castle? Surely some of them saw which way he went."

Looking at the teyrn Morrigan asked, "I trust you will care for Seth in my absence?"

"Don't I always?" Fergus answered with a smile, "He'll be fine. He's with the nanny now. So go find that brother of mine and get to the bottom of this."

* * *

"You still have no idea where we're going?" The Warden asked the demon-witch, still completely oblivious to her true identity. "We've been heading west for a full day. What could possibly be out here in this forsaken place?"

"As I have stated before, something calls to me from somewhere...out there." the demon-witch replied, gesturing off to the horizon, "I am unsure of its origin, but it has been calling to me for some time, compelling me to come find it."

"And this came from the strange dreams you've been having?"

"Yes. I fear something terrible will happen, lest we intervene. I know not what, but its impact shall reach to all of Ferelden. 'Tis why we must hurry."

"I don't pretend to understand all the things you see, but we don't have a clue what this thing is. How are you even sure that we can help?"

"Whoever seeks me out would not have gone through the trouble of doing so were there no way to affect the outcome."

"Alright, I'll give you that." The Warden said, "But something still feels wrong about this."

The false witch turned and faced The Warden, her golden eyes staring straight into his, "Do you not trust me?" she asked.

"Of course I trust you." he groaned in response.

"Then believe me when I say to you that a grave threat is coming." she said as she caressed his face lightly with her hand, "Our answers lie somewhere beyond the horizon. In order to find them I shall need your complete faith. Do I have it?"

"You know you do."

"Then we shall have no more trivial discussions over the matter. You shall have your answers at the same time I have mine."

The pair traveled on, along the northern coast of Ferelden and the shores of the Waking Sea. This was a particularly remote region of the country as the rocky shore and sandy ground held little to offer any potential settlers. Bandits would sometimes use the area to hide, but seldom stayed long under the scorching hot sun of the day and the freezing winds that blew from the sea at night. Mostly the region was barren and empty.

As much as he wanted to, The Warden was unable to make sense of the situation. But that really didn't bother him as much as it should have. Not being a mage himself, he was accustomed to not understanding many of the things Morrigan did. And, as a result, rarely questioned them, thinking that it was enough that she understood.

His connection to the witch wasn't any more revealing, either, as the past couple of days it hadn't been as strong as it normally was. Usually it was prevalent within him and he was aware of it at all times. But now, the connection felt weak and out of focus. The beacon had been known to fluctuate from time to time and The Warden reasoned that this was merely one of those times. He was confident that his connection would return to full strength in a day or two, just as it always did.

As the sun began to hide itself away again for the night, the pair spotted a small wooden boat that appeared to have been abandoned along the shore some time ago, the oars still resting in their places inside. "Our destination lies somewhere out at sea, I am sure of it. We shall need to use this boat to get there." the demon-witch said.

"This rickety thing? I don't even think it'll float." The Warden replied, seriously doubting the small vessel's sea worthiness.

"Do you see any other means we can use to get where we need?" the demon asked as she hopped over the side and into the boat, "Fear not, my magic shall see that it remains afloat."

"If you say so..." The Warden said, and with a large grunt he pushed against the bow of the boat and forced it back into the water; a place it had not been in a long time. Almost immediately, trickles of water began to invade the inside, forming puddles on the floor of the boat. The demon waved her hand across the vessel and it began to glow slightly. Within seconds the water stopped seeping in from the many tiny cracks in the wood. Soon, even the floor of the vessel was completely dry.

When the boat was far enough out into the water, The Warden placed his hands on the side and lifted himself into the boat with one quick jump. Sitting in the middle, he grabbed an oar by the handle with each hand and prepared to start rowing.

"That will not be necessary, my love." the demon-witch said, "My magic can get us there far quicker than your arms, strong though they might be. Besides, it would make little sense to have you facing what lies ahead in an exhausted state."

And, as if of its own accord, the boat began to move by itself. It backed away slowly from the shore before turning around and heading out to the open sea at a smooth steady pace. They sailed out of view and into the night propelled by the demon's power. Unknown to The Warden, however, on an island far out in the Waking Sea, there was a man who was waiting to meet him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Part IX**

The few remaining people still camped outside the castle gates were all making ready to leave since King Alistair had lifted the order forcing them to stay. There weren't nearly as many witnesses to question as there had been, still however, some did see The Warden and his companion as they left the castle and headed northwest, towards the coast. Unfortunately, that was all any of them had seen and could offer no other clues to The Warden's intended destination.

The witch thought it best not to reveal her identity to the people in the camp, afraid they might mistake her for the impostor. So Morrigan assumed bird-form and floated above Leliana and Zevran while they walked through what was left of the encampment, the evidence of the recent attack still readily visible. Scorch marks and burned tents still littered the ground and a foul smell hung in the air. The smell of burnt flesh. It would be a long time before the physical scars from the attack faded from view, and longer still for the mental ones.

Alistair elected to remain behind, after much convincing on the part of his captain of the guard, who felt it was unwise for the king to venture from the safety of the castle when his life was at risk. The king reluctantly agreed, unable to say no as he stood transfixed by her big blue eyes. The captain offered no such objections to the witch's participation, however.

After a few hours, the party came to Ferelden's northern coast along the Waking Sea. Zevran led them as they followed the shoreline westward into the desolate lands. The elf was a skilled tracker of men, having used such skills on numerous occasions to hunt his quarry. He was sure The Warden and the demon passed this way as there were two sets of footprints clearly visible in the rocky and sandy ground.

The witch had resumed her human form and, as was her custom, trailed at the back of the group, apart from the others. Even though she felt welcome in their midst, she still felt out of place and uncomfortable around them. They were The Warden's friends, and if it wasn't for him, she would probably never have the need to speak with any of them. They were her friends only by association, Morrigan thought. A thought that was both comforting and disturbing to her.

The daylight was waning and soon the party would break for camp, something the witch was almost looking forward to. Her back had been hurting her all day, the muscles cramping up into tight spasms that got stronger as the day progressed. As much as she desired to keep searching for The Warden, Morrigan was finding each step was becoming more painful than the last.

When the time finally came to camp for the evening, it took the witch far longer than normal to erect her tent, not ever being totally successful at it. The pain was radiating around from her back to her stomach, causing her to shake and sweat profusely. She cursed herself beneath her breath as her hands fumbled about and refused to cooperate. Leliana watched as Morrigan struggled with her tent, and for a long time said and did nothing. After a while of watching the witch, who was in obvious discomfort, the bard's goodhearted nature won out over her fear of Morrigan's reprisal and she went over to the witch's spot, which, as usual, was several yards from were the others had set their tents up.

"You don't look so good. Are you feeling alright?" Leliana asked meekly.

The witch looked up from her task, saying with a scowl, "I am f..." before being cut off by another spasm that caused her to wince in pain.

"You are most definitely not fine." the bard retorted, "Something is hurting you."

After the wave of pain had faded and Morrigan was able to reply, she said, "Your concern is not needed. I will be fine."

"Still, you should let me help you with this..." the bard said as she reached for Morrigan's tent in an attempt to assist.

"I do not need nor desire your help. I am not suffering from some serious malady and in need of your pity. I am quite capable of taking care of my own needs." the witch shot back.

"Everyone needs help sometime, Morrigan. Even you." the bard said as she turned to walk away, "But you have far too much pride to ask. That's not being strong, that's being silly."

The witch groaned and rolled her eyes. "Cramps." she said.

"What?" Leliana asked as she turned back around.

"It feels like...cramps. Only stronger and focused in my lower back. Not unlike the pains of labor."

"That can't be good." the bard replied, "We should get you back to Highever as soon as possible."

"'Tis nothing. I've overexerted myself and nothing more. I had these same episodes while carrying Seth. A night of rest and I shall be fine."

"At least let me help you with your tent."

"Very well, as you wish." the witch relented begrudgingly, "However, do not expect me to make a habit of accepting your tokens of generosity."

"I won't." Leliana said as she knelt down and began the task of fixing Morrigan's crumpled and twisted mess.

"And, Leliana..."

"Yes?"

"Thank you." the witch said earnestly.

"You're Welcome." replied Leliana as a smile crept across her face.

* * *

Captain Dyana was out in the village of Highever questioning some of the townsfolk and trying to find any clues she could that would lead her to whomever was responsible for the dragon's attack. The captain had ventured into the village many times before over the course of the past few days and talked to many people, all without success. Still, the king had charged her with solving the mystery and she was determined not to give up until she had done exactly that.

It seemed that whoever it was that attracted the beast was very good at covering their tracks, because other than the egg, no other trace of the culprits existed. Dyana interrogated anyone she thought might have information about these people. But every lead she followed came up empty. She was no closer to finding the guilty party then when she first started, and she was running out of places to look.

"The Maker has a true plan for each of his children." a booming voice called out, getting the captain's attention as she swung her head about to face the source.

"These troubled times are a warning from him that he is displeased that his children have all gone astray from his true teachings." said a main wearing a red robe. He stood atop a wooden crate and addressed a crowd of people that was starting to gather before him.

"The Maker shall guide us and protect us, but only if we heed his warnings. The Orlisians, the Blight, the dragon, these were all signs of his displeasure." the man continued while the crowd continued to grow, "The Chantry has failed you. For was it not them who permitted the maleficar to live unpunished? Her evil blood magic tainting and defiling the heroic Grey Warden. Her very existence is a sacrilege!"

The people in the gathering were starting to become restless, most treated the robed figure as a deluded man and heckled him, but others among them would shout out words of agreement. There were many who were uncomfortable with Morrigan. She came from a strange place and wielded strange powers beyond their meager understandings. And by her own admission, she was neither a member of the Circle of Magi nor a follower of the Chantry. They viewed her as a threat to their faith.

"For those of you that seek the Maker's true path, you are not alone. There are those who feel as you do...Those who would accept you. Come and speak with me and I will tell you about the Order of Bohlen. Come and learn the _truth_." the robed man finished as he stepped down from the crate.

The crowd began to disperse, save for several who had decided to approach the man and inquire about the order. Dyana grabbed the arm of a man who was leaving the scene, "Who is that person?"

The man looked down at the captain's hand and was about to utter something distasteful to her when he noticed the royal seal on her breastplate. Instead, he said with a suddenly nervous voice, "That's the Order of Bohlen. They're just a bunch of crazies trying to stir things up."

"What do you know about them?"

"Not much, only that they're starting to sprout up in towns all across Ferelden. I just got back from Amaranthine last week and there was one of them there, too. He was spouting the same crap as this guy."

Releasing the man's arm, the captain said, "Thank you for your time." She walked over to the man in the red robe who was busy talking to several people that were apparently interested in the order. Behind him was another man in a red robe, only he was much larger. The second man was well muscled and wore armor beneath his robe. The captain wondered why the smaller man would need such an imposing bodyguard.

"I have some questions I need to ask you." The captain said as she approached the man.

After politely excusing himself from the others, he turned to Dyana. "How can I help you, captain?" he asked.

"You know who I am?"

"Of course, You are Dyana, captain of the king's royal guard. You are well known in Ferelden."

"I was not aware of that." Dyana responded calmly.

"Please...forgive my rudeness. I am Altavar, one of the brothers in the order." the man said with a slight bow, "And to what do we owe the honor of having such a distinguished visitor?"

"I need to know about your order."

"Ah. I was hoping you'd ask that."

"Why is that?"

"It's no secret you hold no fondness for The Warden's maleficar bride. And after all, who could blame you? You, the captain of the royal guard, whose greatness is overshadowed by that unworthy and evil creature. You should be the most respected woman in Ferelden, not her. Those foolish peasants place her on a pedestal so that she may mock them from above. But you know better. You see her for what she really is: A stain on the soul of Ferelden. A stain that must be cleansed."

"I...I..." Dyana stammered, searching for the words, "I want to know more."

"Come with me." the man said as he placed his arm around her shoulder and ushered her inside the stone building behind them. "We have much to talk about, you and I."

* * *

"Awaken, my love." the demon-witch said as her hand squeezed The Warden's shoulder, "We've arrived."

The Warden and the demon had sailed all night across the dark waters of the Waking Sea and were now many miles from shore. As the early morning sun climbed over the horizon, The Warden was able to make out a large rocky island that lay just ahead. Its rocky coast covered in spots by clumps of thick vegetation. A small range of mountains rose near the middle of the isle, their peaks disappearing into the mist above. The boat, still moving by magic, was heading straight for a short stretch of beach inside a sandy cove.

"How long was I out?" he asked as he sat up in the boat, rubbing his eyes.

"Several hours. 'Tis good that you were able to rest, I feel you shall need it." she replied, standing in the center of the ragged vessel, controlling its movements.

"I can think of exactly what to do with all this pent up energy." he said as he reached around her waist and pulled her to his lap.

"Dwemer!" she let out with a squeal, taken by surprise, "Stop acting so juvenile. I have to steer the boat."

"Juvenile, huh?" he asked while his mouth hovered close to her full and inviting lips.

"Yes, juvenile." she repeated as pushed herself off and stood from his lap, "Now leave me be. I've work to do."

"Fine. But when you least suspect it, that's when I'll pounce." he said with a mischievous grin. "And then you'll be all mine."

"Impossible man." the demon-witch huffed as she resumed her control of the craft and steered it towards the beach.

When the boat finally neared the shore, The Warden hopped over the side and dragged the boat onto the beach. When the boat came to a halt, the false witch hopped out onto the sand. She spent a few minutes looking around, as if to get her bearings. "We must go further into the interior of this island. What we seek lies there." she said.

But before the pair had much of a chance to venture very far, five large men, all clad in red robes, appeared suddenly from the thick foliage. The Warden stepped in front of the false witch and reached over his shoulders to draw his blades.

"Stay your blade!" shouted one of the men said as he held out his hand, "We mean no harm, Warden. We've been expecting you."

"Expecting me?" The Warden asked, "Who are you?"

"That will take some explaining. Please, follow me. We have little time and there is much to tell."

The red robed men turned and headed back along a thin trail through the brush. The Warden and the demon witch followed close behind. The trail wound it's way through the dense scrub before straightening out once the group had proceeded further inland and the forest gave way to a lush field with rolling meadows. In the distance sat an ancient temple, its stone spires still reaching for the clear sky even though its walls began to crack and crumble long ago.

"What is this place?" The Warden asked.

"Our last refuge." The red robed man replied.

* * *

The thick, warm bedroll was placed neatly in the center of the floor and circled with many lit candles. Two naked forms lie intertwined upon it, ravaging each other in the deep throes of passion. The Warden's lips trailed down her neck, to her breasts, cupping and pleasuring them with his skilled hands and mouth. The witch writhed in pleasure beneath him, unable to contain the small gasps and groans that escaped her as his mouth found its way to her flat stomach, and continued still lower.

Morrigan watched from the shadows, unable to step into the light as if something were holding her back. Desperately she struggled against invisible shackles that held her in place while she was forced to watch the demon and her unwitting warden entangle in love's embrace.

"Dwemer! No!" she screamed as hard as she could, yet no sound would come. "'Tis not me!" she continued to plead in anguish.

There was nothing Morrigan could do. The doppelganger had her warden's complete attention and she wasn't letting it go. With cold eyes the creature looked back at Morrigan and said, "He's mine now."

"No!" the witch screamed in silence. "You cannot have him! Dwemer, please!"

"It's your own fault. This is what you get." said another voice.

The witched turned towards the sound and was frozen in her tracks when she was met by the face of the young warden, Silas. "_You killed me!_" he yelled.

"No!" Morrigan screamed, startled awake in her bedroll, gasping and sweat pouring off of her. Her breathing was rapid and her heart pound fast and hard within her. The witch sat up and drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on top.

With the images of the nightmare still fresh in her mind, the witch's eyes drifted to the empty spot beside her. She was alone. For most of her life, Morrigan had slept alone, never caring to share her bed with another. After being with The Warden, however, she had grown accustomed to having someone beside her each night. It had become natural to her. And now that he wasn't there, the witch found the solitude unnerving. A bitter sting made worse by the fact that her thoughts constantly dwell on him.

The first rays of dawn pierced the small slit in the tent's opening and with a grumble, Morrigan climbed out of her bedroll. She wiped the sleep from her eyes, and after preparing herself for another long day of travel, tossed back the opening to the tent and exited, making her way to the pile of smoldering ash that had been the group's campfire the previous night. Morrigan reached for a slender stick beside the fire pit and began stirring the ashes. And with a few puffs of breath from the witch, the fire popped back to life.

"Are you feeling better this morning?" she heard Leliana ask from behind.

"I am much better." Morrigan replied, her focus still on the fire.

Leliana approached the fire and crouched down beside it, next to the witch. She held her hands out to the flames allowing them to warm her frigid hands. "You know, I've been thinking..." she said, staring into the flames, "Silas might have been the one who tricked us."

"The same thought had occurred to me as well." Morrigan agreed, "I believe twas his job to lure us away so that the demon could ensnare The Warden in her magical charms."

"What would make him do such a thing?"

"Who can say. Silas was young and foolish. Twas my mistake that led to his death and is also why The Warden lies in the arms of another. 'Tis all that matters to me."

"You don't think Dwemer would...?" Leliana asked with a gasp.

"I do not have time to consider what might be, only what is." Morrigan replied in a cutting tone.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything." Leliana said apologetically. "It's just, I thought that if he thinks it really is you..."

The witch stood up, turned and headed back to her tent, saying, "In the future, I trust you will keep such insights to yourself." Leaving the bard stunned and with the distinct feeling that she had stuffed her foot very deep into her mouth.

Soon, Zevran, Leliana, and Morrigan broke camp and resumed their search for The Warden. It looked to be another sunny day, which made Zevran's job of tracking that much easier. The elf had no problems following the trail that The Warden and the demon-witch left. They continued west along the coast, battling the fierce sun that beat down from overhead and the brutal winds that blew in from the sea, forcing sand and small rocks to creep into every crevice of their clothing.

For many hours the group traveled in silence. Occasionally, the bard would strike up a brief conversation with Zevran, but the elf was usually too focused on his quarry to be able to chat for long, and their talks would never last more than a few minutes. Meanwhile, Morrigan strolled behind the others, fuming internally over what the demon could be doing with her warden. The thoughts were driving her insane. Each time she tried to sweep them from her mind, they forced their way back in. She hoped upon hope that maybe something had interrupted them, or that they haven't had the chance altogether, as so often was the case with she and The Warden. In her heart, the witch knew that was the only prayer she had.

"Wait!" Zevran shouted. "There's something here." he said as he studied the ground.

"What have you found?" Morrigan asked as she hurried towards the elf.

"The trail ends here. Beyond this point there are no footprints. However, someone pushed something into the water. And by the look of it, I'm inclined to think it was a small boat."

"A boat? That cannot be right. Look again."

"I know what I see. There is only one way to interpret it."

"But that leaves us with no way to follow them..."

"Can't you just turn into a fish or something and swim after them?" the elf asked.

"No, I cannot." Morrigan huffed, "It takes weeks of intense concentration and study for me to learn a new form. We haven't the time."

The witch cast her icy glare out to the open sea. Out there, somewhere, was her warden. And whatever the demon's plans were, they didn't include being followed. Rage seethed through Morrigan and she clenched her fists tightly at her side. "You fucking cunt." she muttered under her breath.

* * *

The king and teyrn were in the castle study, going over what they were able to find out about who was responsible for the attack. For the past four days, Fergus had his men scouring the countryside looking for any evidence they could find. And day after day his men would return empty handed. They were no closer to revealing the identities of the men who left the dragon egg. Frustration was starting to set in for both men, having run out of options.

The study door burst open and Dyana came walking in. Alistair watched intently as her hair flowed and her breasts bounced while she walked closer to the men. "What do you have to report?" he asked the captain.

"I regret to inform you that I have yet to find the guilty party, your majesty." the captain answered with a bow.

"Well, we have to keep looking. They can't just have vanished. Someone has to know something. Those people deserve justice." Alistair said, pounding his fist on the desk for emphasis.

"And we'll also know who it is that wants you dead." the teyrn added.

"Yeah, and then there's that. I had almost forgotten that I someone was trying to kill me. Thank you for reminding me." the king returned with pseudo-gratitude.

"The sooner we find out who your dark figure and his accomplice in the red robes were, the sooner we'll get to the bottom of this." Fergus said.

"Red robes?" The captain asked the king with a puzzled look on her face, "You never mentioned anything like that to me."

"I didn't think what he was wearing was important at the time. Why? Is there a problem?"

"No, its nothing." the captain replied, shaking her head.

"Very well, captain, that will be all."

Alistair's eyes once more trailed the lovely young captain as she strolled from the room. Fergus grinned at the king actions, "You haven't asked her yet, have you?" he asked.

"Asked her what?"

"Why, to dinner, of course."

"W..what?" Alistair stammered, "That's ridiculous. Why would I do that?"

"Because, you are obviously attracted to her, and in case you haven't noticed, she's waiting for you to ask." the teyrn replied.

"I can't do that. It would be inappropriate. She's my captain, after all." Alistair said, before pausing for a minute, deep in thought. "You really think she'd say yes if I asked?"

"You never know until you try."


	10. Chapter 10

**Part X**

The Warden and the demon-witch followed the red clad figures into the ancient temple. Up cracked steps and along a stone walkway they went, the bricks containing many chips and some weeds growing in between, until they stood before a set of large metal doors that were cast with ornate images of long-dead gods and heroes doing battle with ancient demons. The lead member of the group pulled open the door and gestured The Warden and his companion inside.

"Master Denolian waits for you inside." he said with a bow.

After walking through the doorway, The Warden found himself standing in a large worship hall of some sort. It was a long and narrow room with many rows of pews separated by an aisle covered in lush velvet carpet. Many hundreds of candles lit the room, some set in places against the wall, while others hung overhead in extravagant chandeliers. The smell of many different spices and incense filled the air, their strong fragrances permeating everything around. At the far end of the room was a tall podium that sat behind a large black marble altar that was trimmed with gold and silver markings. Standing near the pulpit was a man wearing a fine white robe inlaid with religious and ceremonial markings. The man, hearing The Warden and demon's entrance, raised his head towards the sound.

The glint of a smile could be seen beneath the hood of the man's robe. With smooth and gracious steps, he climbed down from the podium and stood in front of it as The Warden approached him.

"Welcome, Warden." the man said, "I am Denolian, the high priest of this temple. I've been waiting for you."

"I know this place." the demon-witch noted, "Twas you that called to me in my dreams."

"I prayed the Maker would guide you here, and He has. You no doubt have many questions. All will be answered in good time, I assure you." Denolian replied, "Unfortunately, however, there is a pressing matter that requires my attention. Please, be our guests for the night and I will explain everything over dinner this evening."

The false Morrigan leaned her mouth close to The Warden's ear and whispered, "Lest the idea of spending another night in a cramped boat appeals to you, I suggest you accept his hospitality."

"It's agreed, then." The Warden said, "We'll be your guests."

"Excellent!" Denolian exclaimed, "I'll have Eldrich show you to your quarters."

The priest pulled a small bell from his robe sleeve and rang it; the high pitched dinging sounds reverberated clearly off the stone walls. The large door swung open once again and the man who first showed the pair in, reappeared. "Yes, your grace?" the man asked.

"Eldrich, take The Warden and his lovely companion to their quarters for the night."

"Certainly, your grace." Eldrich replied with a deep bow, "If you'll please follow me, my lord." he said to The Warden as he head for the doorway.

The trio walked along the stone pathway that wound through the temple compound on the way to one of the other structures. The large temple complex contained no less than five buildings, from what The Warden could see, the worship hall being the largest. Eldrich was leading them to one of the smaller structures on the eastern end of the grounds.

"What is this place?" The Warden asked as they walked.

"This temple is very old...abandoned long ago by an ancient and foreign people. Their language is strange to us and we don't know who they were or even what they called this place." Eldrich answered, "But we call it 'The Maker's Palace'."

"That's an odd name. Why do you call it that?" The Warden inquired, slightly puzzled.

"What else would you call the place where the Maker will appear when he returns?"

"Why would he return here?"

"The Maker summoned Master Denolian to this island and told him it would be so. We do not question why."

"How quaint. Even this far from the shores of Ferelden do we yet see blind faith." the demon said in a condescending tone.

"My faith has served me well, my lady." Elrich replied.

They entered the smaller building, which had the same strange symbols and markings carved into its stone as the other structures. Its walls were made of the same black marble as the temple and the torchlight reflected off the smooth stone. After walking down a short corridor, they came to a door.

"He we are." Eldrich said as he opened the door, "Feel free to make yourselves comfortable. You may venture to any part of the temple you desire, but I strongly suggest you do not go far into the forest beyond. Many an unwary brother found himself lost amid its tangled clutches, never to be seen again."

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." The Warden said, passing through the doorway and entering the room. The demon-witch followed.

"If you need anything, please, don't hesitate to ask." Eldrich offered, "I'll come get you when dinner is ready this evening." he finished with a bow, turned, and left back down the corridor and out of the building.

Without saying a word, The Warden grabbed his backpack and removed it from his shoulders, laying it down in the center of the plain but clean looking bed and then turned to head back out the door.

"And just where do you think you are off to?" the false Morrigan asked in an annoyed voice, hands on her hips.

"I'm going to take a look around." came The Warden's reply.

"Like hell you are." the demon-witch fumed, "Our first chance to be alone since we wed and you would squander it on sight seeing?"

"I need to find out all I can about this place and these people before we meet with Denolian tonight."

"You shall have plenty of time for that later." the demon said as she moved her body dangerously close to his, "But now 'tis time for _you_ and _I_ and something we've not done since before we were married."

Unable to put up much of a resistance to the soft kisses she placed along his neck and chin, The Warden found himself having a difficult time putting a thought together in order to respond. Finally, after much focus and effort, he was able to say, "Morrigan...wait. I can't do this right now." And he started back towards the door.

"Are you telling me you are saying no to _these_?" the demon-witch asked as she pulled her top open allowing her breasts to fall out and freezing him once more in his tracks.

"You don't play fair." he said, "...but I can't."

"What reason could you possibly have?" the demon hissed, obviously very aggravated.

"Because Denolian is hiding something. I can feel it. I have to find out what he's up to. If I don't, it's going to eat at me and be a distraction."

"And what cause have you to think this?"

"None really. It's just a gut feeling." The Warden answered as he held her soft hands within his and gazed into her golden eyes, "It's crazy, I know. But I can't shake the feeling that something isn't right here."

The demon sighed and rolled her eyes, "Fine. Go and search this place from top to bottom. And when you've discovered nothing, you shall return to me and we will speak no more of this foolishness."

He smiled at her. "Thank you." he said as he leaned in and gave her a soft kiss against her cheek. And, with a turn, he was through the door, into the corridor, and gone.

* * *

Morrigan, Leliana, and Zevran searched the area by the shore for anything that could be used to float them out to sea and after The Warden. But there was nothing of use to be found. What deadwood lay on the shore was either too small or too gnobbled and crooked to be of help. The small bushes and trees along the coastline were scraggly, wiry, and not fit to be made into neither boat nor raft. The trio had only one option left: turning back.

The only way they could follow The Warden now was by boat. The closest boat available to them were those of Alistair's royal navy that were docked in Amaranthine. It would take at least a day to make the trip from Highever, where they would have to go first in order to get Alistair's royal seal, thereby granting passage aboard his ships, and still at least another two days sailing. And that was if the winds held, otherwise it could take far longer still.

That was at least four or more days they would lose. By that time, Morrigan feared, The Warden's trail may go cold and she would never be able to find him. To avoid that possibility, Morrigan hatched a plan of her own, a plan that carried great risk, but if successful, could greatly aid in her search. The witch planned to use the Orbs of Arastani to try to contact The Warden. She hoped she wouldn't be contacting legions of darkspawn as well.

The trio safely made their way back to Castle Cousland, and, judging from the looks on their faces, both Alistair and Fergus knew what the outcome of their search had been. Zevran and Leliana stopped to talk to the king and teyrn who met the party as they came inside the castle. Morrigan chose instead to quietly head to her chambers without saying a word. She was exhausted, the stress and uncertainty were starting to take a heavy toll on her. And, if that wasn't bad enough, her back had started hurting again.

Upon arriving at her and The Warden's private apartment, she cast her pack aside, leaving it in the middle of the floor where it landed, and plopped down on the bed. The witch barely had the strength to remove her boots, which she tossed to the side. A loud sigh escaped her as she lay back against the soft pillows, the first comfort she'd had in days.

Morrigan tried her best to lay still and relax, attempting to ease the painful spasms in her back and stomach by willpower alone. For a long time, her body refused to cooperate, and instead of subsiding, the pain became steadily worse. The witch's hands dug into the mattress with each wave that washed through her, sweat starting to bead on her forehead. But finally, after what seemed like an eternity of agony, the pain began to fade and her muscles released their tight grip. Morrigan, totally drained, fell fast asleep.

Meanwhile, in the castle study, Alistair, Fergus, Zevran, and Leliana were all discussing the current status of the search for The Warden and what to do next, the king and teyrn having both been briefed on the situation. Alistair agreed to send his fastest ship, the Gryphon, which was anchored at Amaranthine. Even still, it would take a few days to reach the area and the coast of Ferelden was dotted with hundreds of small islands. Searching them would take months, at least. A courier was sent racing from the castle on horseback to alert the Gryphon to be ready to sail the instant Leliana, Zevran, and Morrigan boarded the ship.

Many coastal maps were rolled out over then teyrn's desk as they debated over which places to start looking first. Figuring that the craft The Warden and the demon used was small, that should have limited the number of islands they could reach. And it would most assuredly rule out them being able to make it as far north as the Free Marches.

With those things in mind, those gathered in the study began combing the maps and looking at the islands within a few miles of the coast. Most of these were small and rocky places, little more than stone lumps poking up out of the sea. That narrowed their choices down considerably until only a few likely candidates remained. Of these, only one stood out: Dragon's Tail Island. It was an island that sailors had avoided for centuries, claiming it was a dark and haunted place, possessed by foul and evil creatures. It seemed like the perfect place to start their search.

"Where's Morrigan?" Alistair asked, "After all the fuss she made you'd figure she'd be here."

"I don't think she was feeling too good." Leliana replied, "I saw her head off towards her chambers."

"In my experience, women who are with child rarely feel good." Fergus added.

"Her back was bothering her before, it might be doing so again."

A look of concern came over the teyrn's face, looking to the bard he asked, "Her back was hurting her?"

Leliana nodded affirmative, "She said it was nothing."

"She would." Alistair said.

"That doesn't sound good. She's not far along enough for her back to hurt yet." Fergus remarked, "You might want to go check on her."

"_Me_ check on her?" The bard asked, miffed, "Why does it always have to be me?"

"Because this is a woman type of problem and more importantly, she'll yell at any of us." the teyrn answered.

"Fine. But she yells at me, too." Leliana said as she stormed out of the room.

The bard walked along the castle corridors, muttering to herself about how unfair the situation was, going around turns and up stairs until she was in front of Morrigan's door. Leliana stopped outside, preparing herself for the verbal onslaught that was about to ensue, as she slowly raised her hand to knock on the rough wooden door. But before she had the opportunity, a scream erupted from the other side.

"Morrigan!" Leliana exclaimed, "Are you alright?" she asked as she banged on the door with her fist. "Morrigan!" the bard continued to yell but still no reply came.

Leliana clasped the metal ring in her hand and pushed the door open. She raced inside to find Morrigan sitting up in her bed with a look of abject terror. The witch held both her hands before her face, staring at them in stunned silence. They were covered in blood. The witch's skirt as well as the blanket she lay on were drenched in blood as well. All of it Morrigan's.

"Oh, Morrigan...no..." Leliana gasped.

* * *

Faint rays of sunlight trickled through the tiny slits that served as windows, barely casting any light at all inside the dark temple in Highever. The robbed priests and brothers inside went about their daily routines as they scurried to and fro within the stone walls. The entire time a deep chant echoed through the temple that seemed to come from nowhere yet was everywhere at the same time. It was a variation of the Chant of Light. With a loud and whining creak, the front door opened, bathing the interior of the building in sunlight, and Dyana stepped inside.

The captain had come alone to see Altavar. There was something that was troubling her for the past day an she was having difficulty putting the matter to rest. From the description that the king gave, the red robed man who attacked him outside the small cave appeared to be a brother with the order. If it was true, that would mean the Order of Bohlen was behind everything, including the dragon attack. This information did not sit well with the captain at all, and she meant to get to the bottom of things.

"You lied to me Altavar!" she exclaimed when she burst into his private office near the rear of the building.

"My good captain, whatever do you mean?" he asked in an innocently soothing voice.

"The people who planted the dragon egg, they were members of the order, weren't they?" Dyana demanded.

The priest bowed his head with a deep sigh and said, "Then it's true. They _were_ members of the order, as much as it pains me to admit."

"I don't understand..."

"There are those among our order who tend to be a bit...overzealous at times. I feared that something like this could happen and always suspected that some of our own could be responsible, but I never spoke it aloud. I hoped that if I didn't acknowledge it, then it could not possibly be so. I was wrong."

"Tell me what's going on. The _truth_."

"Several of our younger members had shown for some time that they would like to take a more...active...part in the Maker's plan. They felt that by sending a message to The Warden on his wedding night, he might be persuaded to end his unholy folly with the maleficarum. At least that was the impression they gave me. I can't say for certain as they never made me privy to their plans. I do not know where or how they acquired the egg, as I have not seen them since the day before the wedding. I assumed the dragon killed them as well. Call it poetic justice."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" the captain asked.

"Though the Order of Bohlen is older even than the Chantry, our numbers are few. And because we acknowledge the one true Maker and were the first to follow the Andrastic teachings, the Chantry tolerates our presence, but just barely. Aylesa would love nothing more than to have a reason to banish us from Ferelden forever. I do not intend to give her one."

"More than two hundred people were killed by the dragon. You still should have come forward and said something. I can't just ignore that."

"Nor should you. But what can be done? Those responsible for this horrible crime are already dead. Do you plan on executing them a second time for good measure?"

"Well...I suppose not." The captain said as she thought about Altavar's response, weighing it in her mind.

"I trust you will still be attending this evening's services? We'll be hearing a sermon written by Master Denolian, himself. It's sure to be quite insightful." Altavar said with a polite smile.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything." Dyana replied slyly as she head out the door.

* * *

After spending the better part of the day exploring the temple compound, The Warden returned to his guest quarters, not having found anything out of the ordinary. And while he and the false Morrigan waited for Eldrich, The Warden pondered the strange feeling in his gut that he hadn't been able to shake since arriving on the island. He was certain things were not all what they seemed to be, but, as of yet, he lacked any evidence to support it. He hoped that their dinner with Denolian would be more enlightening.

"I suppose you find that particular wall more interesting than you do me?" the demon-witch asked, her question dripping with sarcasm.

"What?" The Warden said, his mind being pulled back from elsewhere.

"You've done nothing but sit there and stare at that wall. What could there be about it that would mesmerize you so?"

"Oh, sorry." he replied, apologetically, "I was just thinking."

"What about?"

"You said you didn't want to talk about it." he reminded her.

"_That_ again?" the demon huffed, folding her arms, "Surely you have better things to do with your time than waste it on trying to see things the are not there."

She moved over to where he sat and straddled his lap, setting all of her weight on him. She put her slender fingers against his chin and guided his gaze to hers. "For the first time in over a year, we are alone together. And this is how you would squander it?" she said as her lips crept closer to his.

"I'm...I'm sorry." he stammered, "That's not what I was trying to do."

"All shall be forgiven..." the false Morrigan purred in his ear, "But it will require a great deal off effort on your part. And I intend you to spend the entire evening working to make things right." she said as she reached her hand around behind her, between his legs and lightly cupped his loins in her hand "And this shall be the tool you'll use." she finished, gently squeezing before releasing her hand.

"I'm looking forward to it." he said as he leaned his mouth closer to hers. But before he could claim his prize, as usual, there came a knock at their door.

"Who is it?" The Warden called out with more than a little frustration in his voice.

"It's Eldrich, my lord. I've been sent to call you to dinner. Master Denolian waits for you in his private dining room." the man on the other side of the door said.

"It looks like Gregory will have to wait." he said to her, disappointed.

"Who?" the demon asked.

"What do you mean, 'who'?"

"Oh...of course..._Gregory_. How foolish of me." false Morrigan stumbled, sounding more confused than anything.

With a grumble, the demon lifted herself from The Warden's lap, allowing him to stand and open the door. Eldrich stood patiently in the corridor, waiting to escort the couple to dinner. They followed the robed brother as he led them to still another of the temple's buildings, this one housing the kitchen and dining hall for the temple faithful. In the back of the structure, secluded from watchful eyes, was Denolian's private dining room.

"I'm so glad you could make it." Denolian said as The Warden and demon walked into the room and joined him at the large round table in the middle. "I even have a small treat for you Warden. Please, enjoy." he said, pointing to one of the many plates that lie on the table. On the plate was a rolled up piece of flatbread, stuffed with meat.

"Merlan's tarts." The Warden said, instantly recognizing the dish. He turned to the demon-witch, intending to warn her only to find she already had bitten off half a tart, popping the rest into her mouth after finishing the first bite.

He watched her slowly chew the morsel, then swallow. "Those are quite good." she said after she finished and reached for another.

"Huh..." was all The Warden could say as he scrunched his eyebrows.

"You look like a man with something on your mind, Warden." the priest said with his velvet voice, "And I'm not talking about the food."

"You're very perceptive. Yes, there are some things that are bothering me."

"In my occupation, it pays to be observant. Tell me, what's on your mind."

"For starters, you can tell me what's _really_ going on here. Many of your members are well armored and carry weapons beneath their robes. And I can tell they've been trained how to use them."

"Apparently, I'm not the only one who is observant. Very well, if you must know, I will tell you." Denoloan said as he started to explain, "While the Chantry pretends to ignore us, in truth we are the subject of repeated attacks by their revered Templar Order. They call us heretics and their goal is to drive us out of Ferelden completely. Some of our members have taken an oath to protect this order and those who worship here. It is an unfortunate, but necessary precaution, I assure you."

"Why would they do this? The Templars hunt down rogue mages, not attack unarmed men."

"A question we asked a hundred times, ourselves. A question with a most unlikely answer."

"Explain what you mean."

"The Order of Bohlen's history predates that of the Chantry's. We were the first to speak the Maker's true words and follow the Andrastic teachings of His holy bride. However, the path we follow tends to be...a harder path... than that of the Chantry. Regardless of this, for centuries there was peace between our orders. Only over the past few years has there been real conflict. Ever since Alyesa became the Grand Cleric. While in public she was known as the most stern Grand Cleric in generations, privately though, she sought our destruction. As the years passed and her power grew, in secret she began to systematically disassemble the Chantry. She was becoming more lenient to the sins around her. Your lovely bride being the largest example of that."

"Be careful what you say..." The Warden warned, sternly. "I'm aware that my marriage doesn't exactly please the religious establishment, but they don't know her like I do." he said casting his stare straight into the demon's eyes, "And they never will."

"My apologies, Warden. I meant no insult. I was merely proving a point." Denolian offered with a humble bow of his head.

"That being?"

"We believe that Alyesa may not be at all who she claims. We think she is a foul demon whose purpose is our slaughter and the destruction of our faith. Even now she seeks to call an Exalted March against us, her army massing somewhere secret within Ferelden. As outlandish as this may seem, its the only reasonable answer."

"You're going to need to show me some proof of this claim."

"We wouldn't have brought you all this way if we couldn't provide it." Denolian said with a smile.


	11. Chapter 11

**Part XI**

Morrigan lie in her bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. She hadn't said a single word to anyone since it happened. For more than a day the witch lay cooped up in her chambers, ignoring every visitor who came to check up on her. Leliana being the lone exception. The bard felt nearly as bad about what happened as Morrigan did, and unlike the witch, she had no problems expressing it. So, Leliana entertained Alistair, Fergus, and even the elf, Zevran, when they stopped by to see how Morrigan was doing, while the witch lay in the bed with her feet propped up on several pillows, and said nothing, merely staring at the ceiling.

When a guest would leave, the bard dutifully asked Morrigan if there was anything she could do, each time the witch weakly shook her head no. Leliana didn't press the issue for once. The stress of The Warden's absence coupled with the loss of her child had reduced Morrigan to little more than a breathing lump on the bed. The only bright spot had been when Fergus brought Seth by to see his mother. The child immediately ran up to the side of the bed and wriggled his little body on top, laying next to Morrigan, who wrapped her arm around her son and held him as tightly as she could for several long minutes. But, being the impatient toddler that he was, Seth was soon squirming and eager to move from his spot. So Fergus took the child to find something else of interest, telling him that his mother needed to rest and they would be back to see her again soon.

"I'll be leaving soon." Leliana said, "We're going to Amaranthine. Alistair says he coming, too. But I don't know if Dyana will allow it."

"I need to speak with Alistair." the witch muttered, her gaze still fixed on the ceiling, "Kindly tell him for me."

The bard meekly nodded affirmative, "I'll tell him." she replied and quietly left the room in search of the king.

While she waited for Alistair, the witch lie there in her bed and thought. She thought about how stupid and foolish she'd been, and how The Warden easily accomplished the most difficult of tasks while she was unable to do anything right at all. And now her incompetence had cost them a child. All because Morrigan hung her hopes on that damned talisman. If she never agreed to go after it in the first place, The Warden would still be here with her and their child would be alive inside her. The more she thought about it, the madder she got and the more she wanted to strangle Silas, if he wasn't already dead, that is. Something else that was her fault.

The witch had often openly criticized her warden on their numerous adventures together. At times with the odd quip, at others with outright heckling. And rarely did he say anything back to her. Usually he just did what he thought was best regardless of her actions. It was now something Morrigan deeply regretted doing. She should have offered her support rather than sarcasm. But, back then, she still hid how much she cared for him and was afraid the others in their company would think her soft. She had new found respect for what he was able to accomplish, given what he had to work with.

"You wanted to see me?" Alistair asked as he poked his head inside the door.

"I hear that you are soon to leave for Amaranthine, I would ask that you stay." Morrigan replied.

"_You_ want _me_ to stay behind? Why?"

"Do not get the idea that I am in need of consoling, I merely require services only you can render."

"And what would that be?"

"I intend to use the Orbs of Arastani to contact The Warden." she answered, her head finally turning to face him.

"Are you mad? You'll draw mobs of darkspawn here, not to mention all the Grey Wardens at Vigil's Keep."

"Do you think me a fool? Of course I've considered that very thing, 'tis why I need your aid."

"Explain..."

"I've had a good amount of experience handling the orbs and am quite familiar with their uses. I believe I can contact him and only him. 'Twill not be easily accomplished, however, and I need to perfect my skills..."

"Which is where I come in, right? You need a test subject." Alistair moaned, "What if you're wrong? Last time it took three mages to control the orbs. What makes you think you can do it all on your own?"

"Twas because we invoked the smallest of the three orbs, 'tis the one that calls to the darkspawn and thus needed to be contained." Morrigan explained, "I intend to use the second orb, which called the god, Urthemiel. Given that the taint is directly tied to the orbs, I see no reason why it cannot be used to contact The Warden as well."

"It still seems like a pretty big risk to me. Especially when we still have other options."

"What options might those be? By the time your ship finally arrives in the area, The Warden will be long gone. I assure you, Alistair, this _is_ the only option."

"I don't think it's such a good idea. If he ever found out we used the orbs, he'd be furious. Especially if you got hurt. I personally don't feel like getting slugged again."

"Alistair...please. I _need_ to do this." she pleaded, her eyes telling him how desperate she was to find her husband.

"Alright, I'll help you this one time." he groaned, "And to think I used to get mad at him for caving to you all the time."

* * *

Late at night, in the guest quarters, The Warden looked over the parchment again, just to make sure he had read the words right. But each time he scanned it with his eyes, he saw the same thing. There was no denying it, Alyesa had ordered the preparations to commence for an exalted march against the Order of Bohlen. The signature and wax seal at the bottom verified the letter's authenticity. It was the exact same seal Morrigan possessed on the Writ of Exculpation. There was only one like it in all Ferelden and that belonged to the Grand Cleric, herself.

How Denolian was able to come across such a document was unknown. The priest offered no explanations as to the document's origin, saying only that he had gotten it from a "friend". If the letter was as valid as it seemed, then thousands of innocents would be killed. And even though The Warden did not agree with the order's beliefs, their slaughter was something that he could never stomach.

"You have made your decision to aid these people, have you not?" the demon-witch asked him.

"I can't just stand by while the Chantry kills innocent people."

"If these small-minded cretins wish to destroy themselves, I say let them. 'Tis all the same to me."

"You would say that." The Warden quipped, "but you know I can't allow that to happen."

"So what do you intend to do about it? Face the Templars on your own?" the false Morrigan said as she folded her arms, "I'll not have you going off on some fool's errand."

"You would have me do nothing, then?" he asked, using his hands to help convey his frustration.

The demon reached out her hand to caress his arm lightly, "Maybe 'tis best if you do not." she said, adding with a sigh, "But I know better. You will go to any lengths to save these idiots from themselves. They do not deserve you, my love."

"Everyone deserves to believe what they want. You of all people should appreciate that." he retorted sternly, "I'll go see Alyesa. Maybe I can talk some sense into her."

"A truly pointless notion, indeed. If she were, in fact, massing her forces in secret, it would make little sense to reveal it to you."

"I suppose not." he grumbled, "But there has to be something I can do."

"I'm inclined to think our gracious host has a plan of his own already, why else bother to go to such lengths in bringing us here?"

"Agreed. I still think he's hiding something, though. He and his order may not be as innocent as they claim. Rarely is one side of the story the complete truth. Alyesa can be harsh and rigid, but she wouldn't call an exalted march for no reason."

"'Tis time to put such thoughts out of your head, my love, for we've a busy day tomorrow." the demon said with a seductive purr, her lips hovering by his ear, "Let us retire to the comfort of the bed where we may better enjoy each others company." she finished, her mouth giving his earlobe a good nibble to ensure her message was received.

"You go ahead. I'll be there in a minute."

"In a _minute_?" came the demon's reply, "And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" she fumed with her hands on her hips, eyes glaring.

"It means I have a great deal on my mind and I'm not ready for bed yet."

"So, I am not good enough, then? These people, whom you've only just met, take precedence over me? If that is your attitude, you can stay in here all night for all I care!" false Morrigan huffed as she turned and stormed out of the small living area and into the bedchamber, slamming the door loudly. A faint clicking of metal told him that she had locked the door behind her.

"Morrigan..." he meekly called after her with no response, "_goddammit!"_

* * *

The sermon at the temple in Highever had just come to a close and the patrons were beginning to file out of the dark building and into the moonlit street. Dyana followed along the others towards the exit, stopping near the entrance to talk to Altavar.

"That was a truly inspired message you delivered tonight." she said to the priest as they greeted.

"Captain...I'm so glad you could attend. I'm sure the Maker has great plans for you in the order." Altavar replied with a slight bow of his head.

"I could certainly feel him here tonight." she remarked with a smile, "Tell me, are these few men all the priests that remain in the temple at night? That doesn't seem very safe, given current affairs."

"Unfortunately, for the time being, it is. While more members swell our ranks with each passing day, as in all faiths, precious few have the resolute constitution it takes for priesthood." he answered with a gracious smile.

"Why only for the time being?"

"Because, soon...very soon...the call will go out to all our faithful brothers and sisters across the land. When that day comes, we shall assemble and be united as never before and the templars will no longer be a threat to us."

"When is this all supposed to happen?"

"No one knows for sure, but the master, himself. It is one of the cornerstones of our faith 'Heed the master's call for it is a joyous summons. We shall gather in the fields and march together past the shining city to the shores of the great sea and greet the Maker when he returns.'"

"I see." the captain replied, her eyes steadily trailing one of the priests as he walked from his place by the front door, to the back of the worship hall, and down a side corridor. The faint slam indicating the man had retired to his room. "If you don't mind, I would like some time alone to pray at the altar, if I could."

"Go right ahead, the Maker hears us no matter how late the hour." the priest responded with a smile, "If you'll excuse me, then, I have other matters that need my attention."

"Of course." the captain said as the priest exited with a polite bow. She slowly made her way to the altar at the back of the worship hall, remaining mindful of the last priest's presence by the front door. He was the same large man that she saw outside the temple when she was first there..

Dyana knelt at the altar, clasped her hands together, and closed her eyes, all the while keeping her focus on any sound the man behind her made. For long minutes she feigned prayer in hopes the man would finally leave. After a time she found her self actually praying for that to be the case.

If she was going to be able to snoop around, this would be her only opportunity. There was only one door leading into the temple, and it was locked at night making entry difficult. Also, what few windows she could see were little more than slits in the stone and far too narrow to climb through. So, waiting for the large man to leave was her only option.

She was convinced that Altavar wasn't telling her the whole truth and she figured to find out more. In order to do that, she would have to break into his private office down the main corridor near the front of the structure. If her exploration yielded no results, she would have to come back another day and search his private quarters in the back of the building. But none of that could take place until the last priest standing by the door decided to shift his attention elsewhere.

Eventually, then man saw Dyana was going to be a while and decided to address the large locker on the far wall. She heard the distinctive "click" of the locker door being opened. She cast he glance slowly over her shoulder, winking out of one eye, to see the man with his back towards her as he pulled a large pike from the locker, grabbed a stone from drawer in the bottom, and began to sharpen the long weapon.

She leaned back to her feet, still crouching, and swung around as silently as she could. Her leather boots made no footfalls on the stone tile under her feet as she crept out of the worship hall and down the corridor. Once the captain arrived at the appropriate door, she grabbed one of the candles hanging on the wall, and checked her surroundings to verify all was clear.

As she expected, the door was locked, but the lock was old and simple and gave the captain little trouble in disabling it with her basic set of lockpicks. Dyana gently pushed the door open without making a sound, checking over her shoulder periodically. Once the wedge was wide enough, the captain scampered inside and closed the door behind her.

By the soft, flickering light of the candle, Dyana combed the desk inside the room. On top were a few papers, but nothing of interest. Likewise for the small drawers contained in the desk. No matter where she looked, all she could find were benign papers concerning the normal day-to-day operations of the temple. The captain nearly gave up when she caught the glint of metal reflecting the candlelight.

Over in the corner was a small wooden chest that was tightly locked shut. This lock was much more sophisticated than the rusted one on the door. Try as she might, Dyana could not get the lock to spring free. Her repeated attempts bringing more and more frustration and a neglect for the sounds she was making. Finally, after many tries, the lock popped open. Dyana flung the top back and reached her hand inside, retrieving a rolled up parchment from within the chest.

Quickly, she unrolled the paper and held it up in the light. She had to squint hard to make out the words in the candle's faint glow. It appeared to be instructions for Altavar. It read:

_The Warden has been successfully removed. He can no longer be a problem. Continue preparations for the ritual. The Calling comes soon, my faithful servant._

_-Denolian_

A chill ran trough the captain as the letter's meaning sank in. Altavar _had_ been lying to her. Not only was the order behind the attack on the king, but the disappearance of The Warden as well. The order was up to something big. Just how big, the captain didn't know. But these people were evidently quite capable of using many different means to accomplish their goals, that meant they were large enough to have some influence. If that was the case, whatever their plans were, they would surely affect all Ferelden. She hastily rolled the parchment back up and stuffed it back in its place.

Dyana's heart froze in her chest when she suddenly heard the click of the door latch behind her. With a quick puff, she blew out her candle, closed the chest, and crawled under the desk. A small sliver of light from the corridor outside seeped into the room as the door opened. Slowly it got wider, until the dark shadow of a large man's head poked around the door. For long seconds Dyana could feel the man's eyes scanning the room for anything out of place. The captain's heart pound inside her so much that she was sure the man could hear it.

"Hmm..." the man muttered, then swung the door closed, the room once again going dark. The captain heard his steps get more faint as he walked down the corridor. A large sigh of relief escaped Dyana and she climbed out from underneath the desk and crept to the door.

She slowly pried it open and looked down the hallway. Seeing no one, she slid out into the corridor and silently made her way to the front door. The large priest was nowhere to be seen. The captain reckoned he retired for the evening, thinking the temple was empty. Hope turned to panic when she reached the door to find thick, heavy chains wrapped around each handle, with a large padlock holding them in place. She was locked in!

* * *

The Orbs of Arastani were stored in a secure part in one of Castle Cousland's cellars. Behind a locked door that was rigged with a trap lie a magical barrier created by Morrigan. Inside that barrier was a black metal chest that contained the orbs. It took quite a bit of persuading on both Alistair and Morrigan's part to get Fergus to go along with the plan to retrieve the orbs, the teyrn having no desire to see his castle overrun with darkspawn again. Only after Morrigan was able to convince Fergus that there was no threat of a darkspawn invasion, did he finally agree. In the meantime, Leliana and Zevran had departed for Amaranthine, on their way to meet up with the ship, Gryphon, and search the area near Dragon's Tail island.

The next day, the witch spent several hours trying to make headway with the middle-sized orb. She remembered most of the incantation Flemeth used to invoke the orb's power, however, Morrigan had yet to figure out how to contact anyone at all. Alistair stood idly by as she made attempt after attempt at contacting him through the orb, and each time he would reply that he felt nothing at all.

The witch was starting to lose hope in the idea, thinking maybe there was no possible way to use the orb in such a fashion, after all. Then a thought popped into her brain. It suddenly occurred to her that she had been going about it all wrong.

"Wait for me here. I shall return soon." was all Morrigan said as she went out the door.

Long minutes passed while Alistair waited in the cellar for the witch to return. He tried to talk himself into leaving a couple of times, but failed to find the nerve to actually do so. Just when he had almost gotten brave enough to actually leave, Morrigan came bursting through the door once more, a vial of thick, dark liquid in her hand.

She handed the vial to a perplexed Alistair and went over to the corner where she drug out an old cot that lie covered in dust. "Sit here, and drink." she commanded after knocking most of the cobwebs and dust from the cot.

The king squat down on the cot and held the vial in the light, "What is it?" he asked.

"Just drink it." the witch quipped as she grabbed his hand and raised it to his lips, "'Twill aid me in my efforts."

"Alright...if you say so..." he muttered as he tossed back the vial and downed it's contents, his face grimaced as he swallowed hard. "Makers breath! That was awful" he exclaimed. "What was that any..." Alistair was unable to finish his question as he slumped backwards onto the cot, out cold.

"Twas a sleeping potion." Morrigan said with a wicked grin.

The witch reasoned that while they were controlled by the taint and connected to it, the orbs primarily worked as part of the Fade, it was logical to assume she might more easily find her quarry if he were already there. Unlike the spell that Jowan used to send her to the fade back at Redcliffe, which would be impractical in this instance, only Morrigan's thoughts would be projected into the Fade, via the orb.

The witch turned her focus once more on the orb that lay perched in its small metal pedestal atop the wooden table. Once again she uttered the incantation she heard her mother use, and as before, the orb started to come to life, a faint glow appearing deep within and growing ever brighter.

* * *

Eldrich led The Warden and false Morrigan once more across the compound to see Denolian. The priest had asked for The Warden to take the night to consider what was said and they would talk again on the matter. So Eldrich dutifully escorted the couple to the temple gardens under the bright morning sun. Long flowering vines draped the temple walls here, a stone path wound it's way by many carefully manicured flower beds and rows of hedges. Near the center Denolian stood with his hand outstretched, a small bird perched upon his finger. With a high chirp, the bird flew from Denolian's finger as the trio approached. The high priest turned to face them, nodding at Eldrich, which seemed to be both an acknowledgment and a dismissal, as Eldrich humbly bowed and turned to leave the way he came.

"I trust you had a restful night." Denolian said as he extended his arm in greeting to The Warden.

"Yes, quite." The Warden answered, even though his lower back and neck were aching from having slept in a cramped chair in the corner.

"Good. Have you had a chance to consider my request? The Order of Bohlen will certainly need the help of The Grey Warden, himself, if we are to survive."

"I'd like to help, but what can I do?" The Warden asked.

"There is only one thing that can be done. Deep in the southern Korcari Wilds lies an ancient temple built by the order, lost to time long ago. Inside its stone and marble walls is a relic, the Eye of the Maker. It is said to have the power to protect us from our enemies in times of need. It was a gift from the holy bride herself to, Jacoby, the founder of our order."

"And you want me to go and get this...relic, I take it?" The Warden said, already knowing the answer.

"Once again, you are quite perceptive." Denolian acknowledged, "Indeed, we ask that you seek out the ancient ruins and retrieve the Eye from within. Only its power can save us now."

"What exactly does this 'Eye' do?"

"It is said the Eye is capable of shielding whole cities from harm through the projection of an immense magical barrier. We would invite our brothers on the mainland to the island and use the power of the relic to defend it."

"It doesn't sound like it protected your old temple very well, if it lay in ruins."

"Quite the contrary, legend has it the Eye protected the temple until the priests inside had become old and gray. Since our order waned as the Chantry grew, there were no members to replace the elders after they died and the temple was abandoned."

"Do you have any clues as to where in the wilds this temple is?"

"All I can tell you is that it was rumored to be three days journey due south of what used to be Lothering."

"That's not very specific. But I've had less to work with before."

"So you agree to help us, then?" Denolian asked as a grin spread across his face.

"It looks that way." The Warden concurred.

"Excellent! I shall arrange transport for you back to the mainland as soon as your ready." the priest said, and excused himself with a bow.

"So, we are off on another ridiculous adventure, are we?" the demon asked when they where finally alone.

"I guess so." The Warden answered as he took her hand and they began to stroll through the garden. "If this Eye can do what Denolian says, then I have to at least try. I don't want anyone dying over this."

"But they invariably do." false Morrigan noted, "I still say 'tis best to leave them to their own devices. But since you feel you must help these wretches, you will no doubt need my services. And besides, someone has to keep an eye on you."

The couple found there way to the back of the temple gardens, where a large pond stretched out before them. Water lilies and other aquatic foliage lined the edge. Mist shrouded the dense forest on that lay across the water in the distance. The Warden knelt down and picked a smooth, flat rock from the ground with his left hand and flung it over the water, watching as it skipped across the surface a few times before going under.

"Ha!" laughed the demon, "I can do better." she said as she in turn knelt down, and with her right hand, picked out a suitable rock of her own, grasping it, and tossing it over the pond as The Warden had done. Hers skipped two more times than his before sinking to the bottom.

"So you can..." was his muttered reply.

The pair left the gardens and returned to their quarters on the other side of the compound. Once inside, The Warden began to rummage through his belongings, pulling both his weapons and armor from his pack and putting the gear on.

"Expecting trouble so soon?" the demon-witch asked when she saw what he was doing.

"Possibly." was all he said.

"Ooh, how _mysterious_. Will I be playing the part of the damsel in distress?" she joked, "I expect you'll be after some reward in return for rescuing me."

"I finished with your games." he remarked coolly.

"I do not like your tone. What are you talking about?"

The Warden reached over his shoulder and drew his blade and held it across the demon's throat, pushing her all the way back against the wall. "Dwemer! Have you lost your mind? What do you think you are doing?"

"Shut up!" he yelled, "I don't know who the hell you are, lady, but you are definitely _not_ my Morrigan!"

"Do not be absurd! Wherever would you get such a preposterous notion?"

Because I know my wife, and you're not her!" he said through clenched teeth, "I have to admit you had me fooled for a long time. I only started to suspect anything recently. Your performance was nearly perfect, but not quite."

"I have no idea what you mean." the demon said, continuing her denial.

The Warden pulled his blade back behind his head, and with a mighty heave, started to bring the deadly edge down onto the demon's throat. "Alright! Alright!" she cried as she released the witch's form, revealing her true nature at last and giving pause to The Warden's blade. Instantly his connection to the genuine Morrigan resurfaced. He felt her clearly, somewhere to the distant south.

"A demon. I should have guessed." he said, "What's going on here?"

"Everything is as it seems, Warden. My services were merely employed to ensure your would truly come."

"That's a lie. Demons aren't 'employed' by anyone. Tell me the truth, or I'll separate your head from your shoulders."

The demon did not answer, choosing silence, instead. "Tell me!" The Warden shouted again as he raised his sword high. Again he brought down his blade, but this time with no intentions of stopping. The demoness, realizing his seriousness, covered her face with her hands as she cowered. Bright flames engulfed her and she vanished in a puff of black smoke, leaving the air with the smell of sulfur and brimstone.

"Shit!" The Warden exclaimed, turning to grab his pack before rushing out the door. Surely the demon would alert Denolian to what transpired and the priest would be inclined to change his hospitable stance towards The Warden, and instead, come after him. He needed to find a way off the island quickly, but the only boat he saw on the southern side was the one he and the demon arrived in. There was no way he could use it to get back to the mainland as it required the demon's power just to remain afloat. Denolian had mentioned that another vessel was docked somewhere else on the island, most likely somewhere along the northern coast. That meant going through the dense and twisted forest. Even the temple dwellers stayed as far from it as they could, believing the place to be cursed. So, naturally, The Warden located a lower section of the outer wall, scaled it, and disappeared into the tangled forest beyond.


	12. Chapter 12

**Part XII**

Denolian was in his private office at the front of the worship hall, sitting in his luxuriously cushioned chair, staring into his mirrored vanity, and admiring himself with a pleased grin. He was a content and happy man. As of late, everything had been going according to plan, save for the failed attempt on the king and the maleficar -a minor affair that would be rectified soon enough. More importantly, The Warden had been sufficiently distracted and was no longer a threat to the order. Denolian so greatly feared The Warden's influence and abilities, that the priest made removing Ferelden's great hero the first priority.

And the plan worked to perfection. Denolian had even persuaded The Warden to retrieve the 'Eye of the Maker'. A small chuckle escaped the high priest as he thought about it. None of these fools had the slightest clue what was really happening. When the time came for the Calling to commence, Ferelden would at last bow its knee in submission and Denolian's greatness would finally be restored.

A flash of bright orange and yellow flames followed by a puff of black smoke caught the priest's attention as his head snapped around. The desire demon appeared before Denolian in her true form, something that the high priest found unexpected. "What happened?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

The demon knelt down on one knee before Denolian, her head bowed and gaze downward. "I have failed you, my master. He knows."

"Hmm...I suppose it was bound to happen eventually. No matter, he is here now and that was always the point." the high priest responded calmly.

"He ran into the forest." the demon said, finally raising her eyes to face him, "None of the men will follow him in there. If you allow me to go after him, I swear he will return whether he likes it or not."

"No, that won't be necessary. Your task is completed and I will soon need you elsewhere, my dear."

"What do you intend to do about him, then?"

"I shall let the forest deal with him. He'll wander about lost for days until he dies of thirst and hunger."

"What if he finds the path to the other side of the island and discovers what you have hidden there?"

"He'd need volumes of sheer blind luck in order to do so, as well as it is hidden. Even if he found it, he would never know it. The forest decides the path of its own will_**;**_ one need only know what to look for to follow it. And fortunately, The Warden hasn't a clue." Denolian assured.

"As you wish, my lord." the demon replied, bowing her head once more.

* * *

Dyana trudged up the dirt road back to the castle just as the early morning sun was rising over the horizon. She was covered head-to-toe in the most vile grime and filth. She spent all night digging her way out through the back of the priests' lavatory. It took her hours of digging through the disgusting muck in the pit beneath to finally get the dried mortar between the blocks to give way and allow her to remove enough of the small stone bricks to make a hole large enough for her to crawl through. In the process, she was caked in the putrid slop. Clumps and various bits were stuck in her normally well-kept walnut hair. Dried mud and other compounds covered her face, the streaks from profuse sweating being the only places where bare skin was visible. Her clothes were in absolute ruin, little more than tattered rags steeped in sewage.

The guards at the front gate had trouble recognizing the captain in her soiled condition at first. With her familiar steely look affirming her identity, the men hastily waved her through, if nothing more than to no longer be downwind of her. The other members of the castle gave Dyana an especially wide berth as she made her way through the courtyard and into the castle, itself. A few of the castle servants literally ran off in another direction when the aroma hit them as the captain stormed up the stairs to the second floor and Fergus' study.

The king and teyrn were in the study awaiting word from the Gryphon that she set sail in search of The Warden. When both men smelled the captain coming before they saw her, their heads quickly swung around to see the source of the foul odor as Dyana walked in.

"By the Maker! What is that awful stench?" Alistair howled, his face scrunched in a grimace.

"I'm afraid that would be me, your majesty." the captain said humbly with a polite bow.

"You stink like shit. What could you have been doing? Gong farming?" Fegus asked while he covered his mouth and nose with his hand.

"Something like that. I have urgent news, my lord. I believe I've discovered the people behind everything that's been happening." Dyana informed.

"That's wonderful! And I want to hear all about it..._after_ you've had a chance to clean up a bit." Alistair said, sounding a bit guilty, "I'm sorry...but I can't do this right now. The smell...is just too horrid."

"I understand, your majesty. I will make myself more presentable." the captain replied, bowing deeply as she excused herself.

"Are you sure you want to ask _that_ to dinner?" Fergus asked with a chortle.

"Oh, be quiet." the king grumbled back.

Shortly afterward, Dyana returned, her appearance vastly improved, and informed both men of what she discovered: that the Order of Bohlen was behind everything that transpired, including the dragon attack. That also meant they were the mysterious employers of the blood mages who were paid to free to demon. These men were not as pious as they would have everyone think.

It was decided that the captain keep her revelations concealed for now, at least as far as the order knew. She would again attempt to infiltrate the temple and search for anything else that might give them a clue as to what this 'calling' was and what significance it held in the overall scheme of things. It had to be important, whatever is was. Dyana had heard Altavar mention it, as well as seeing it referenced in the letter.

* * *

The heat of the midday sun bore down on the forest, making the air sticky and humid. Sweat rolled from The Warden's brow while he trudged along through the thick tangle of trees. He was having a difficult time maintaining his bearings. For hours he walked a nearly straight path, only to seem to get absolutely nowhere at all. The vegetation around him never changed, the trees and bushes all looked exactly the same as the ones before. He tried varying his path and changing directions, but to no avail.

The connection with Morrigan let him know that she was sick with worry and extremely upset. He had to find a way out of these confusing and cursed woods and get back to her, to let her know he was alright. But the forest around him refused to cooperate and he was stuck going nowhere, frustrated.

He stopped to rest, leaning against a tree to catch his wind. The salty sweat stung his eyes, and he scanned his surroundings, trying to see anything at all that resembled a possible direction of travel. But everywhere his eyes went he saw the same trees, and the same clumps of bushes. Even the fallen leaves on the forest floor appeared to be in a repeated pattern around him. He laid his head back, resting it against the tree.

A faint sound started tickling the inside of his ear. He listened closer, trying to make the sound out. With a shove, he pushed himself away from the trunk and headed towards the noise. With quiet steps, The Warden sought out the sound, which soon revealed itself to be a babbling brook that wound through the forest. He quickened his pace to find the stream. He knew the water flowing within had to go somewhere. Following the water could lead him out of these perplexing woods, or at least to another part of it. And right now, anything was better than looking at the same few trees over and over.

The Warden spread his hands apart to cut through a rough bush, stepping through into the wet stream hidden behind. The small creek looked as though it wound a good way through the dark forest. Water splashed all around as his steps kicked it about, walking along the stream as if it were a liquid path for him to follow.

The brook meandered through the forest, turning and weaving wildly as it went, but The Warden felt at least he was getting _so__mewhere_. The trees were beginning to look different, as well as the bushes and other brush. His feet and legs were soaked to the bone, and ice cold, but still, The Warden labored onward, until the stream came to an abrupt end as it dove into the ground beneath a large gray boulder.

The Warden pulled himself from the water onto the muddy bank and sat down. One at a time, he slid his boots from his feet and dumped the water out on the ground beside him. He set the boots aside, trying to let his feet dry, and sat there contemplating his next move. He debated on heading back upstream to see if maybe he had gone the wrong way. However, looking at his wrinkled and pruned feet convinced him to keep going the way he was headed and hope for the best. Maybe he had gone beyond the cursed wood already and the forest here would be more amiable to letting him pass.

A noisy squawk from behind kept interrupting The Warden's train of thought. The call of the creature was annoyingly wretched and he was unable to tune it out of his mind. It was as if someone kept puffing on a small and horribly out of tune horn. The Warden swung is head around and glared at the bird, which grew suddenly silent. Its large body was covered in bright red plumage with a bluish-green ring around the neck and three long, thin golden feathers that grew from the bird's crown. An oversized, downward-curved beak of yellowish-orange hue hung from its face, giving the creature a rather silly appearance, overall.

"Skwonk!" the bird cried out as soon as The Warden's back was turned. Sharply, he snapped his head around to stare down the creature once more. And again, the bird looked away, as if trying to seem innocent. The Warden eyed the bird suspiciously for a few minutes, but it made no sound. Slowly, The Warden turned back around and attempted to return to his thoughts.

"Skwonk!" said the bird, even more loudly.

"What the hell is wrong with you, bird?" The Warden shouted, becoming frustrated.

To which the bird replied, "Skwonk!"

The Warden grabbed his boots and pulled them back on. He stood up and walked over to the tree the bird was perched in order to get a better look at this strange creature. But as he drew nearer, the bird jumped from its spot and flew to another tree some yards further away, crying out with its obscene song like it wanted The Warden to follow, which he did. And again, when he got near the tree, the bird flew off to another, squawking loudly as it went.

"Alright, let's see where you take me." The Warden said while he followed the odd bird deeper into the forest. For hours the duo played their odd game of tag, all the while leading The Warden to another part of the forest. They continued until he was miles from where he started and the long shadows of evening crept over the woods. The bird perched on a limb near what looked like a small clearing, allowing The Warden to approach closer than he had before. And just before he was able to reach out a grab it, the bird gave what looked like and approving nod before leaping from the branch and flying off into the darkened forest with one last noisy "Skwonk!" for good measure, leaving The Warden alone once more.

* * *

It had taken Morrigan quite a bit of practice, but she felt that she had perfected her methods at last. Although she experienced no pain or discomfort after the miscarriage, the ordeal had left her substantially weakened and she found herself only able to work for short periods of time. As a consequence, it took far longer than Morrigan would have liked, but eventually, she was able to use the orbs in the fashion she desired.

The witch had been right about using the Fade as sort of a bridge, having been successfully able to contact Alistair as he slept. There was a problem, however. Once Morrigan located Alistair, she was unable to get him to understand her. To him, everything happening in his dream was real and she was merely part of it. Try as she might, the witch couldn't get the king to realize where he really was. And afterward he had little or no recollection of what transpired, his dreams fading fast from his memory. Her only hope lay in the fact that The Warden had traveled to the Fade before and, like a mage, saw it for what it really was. She knew of no reason why he wouldn't be able to do so again.

And that night, as her warden lie sleeping in some far away place, Morrigan used one of the Orbs of Arastani to creep into his dream. It took her some time to locate him, the distance between them seeming to impair the orb's abilities to some extent. She put all her focus into searching out his distinct presence among so many others in the crowded Fade. Once she felt him, she followed the feeling as it got stronger the closer she got to him. Until, at last, she stood in the Grey Warden's encampment at Ostagar.

It was just as she remembered, having spied it before while in wolf-form at the edge of the wilds. Many large and colorful tents had been pitched beneath the shadow of the Tower of Ishal, while knights, mages, and elves all scrambled about to prepare for the coming battle. There was the shadow of a figure standing near the large bonfire that raged continuously. The witch had to shield her eyes from the glare of the flame before the figure was revealed to her. It was _him_. Her warden stood next to the fire, Leo by his side. His arms were folded, his brow tightened in deep thought. Something was deeply troubling him, Morrigan realized.

The witch's heart soared inside her bosom and she started to sprint towards him, eager to be reunited with her warden, if only for a moment. She stopped dead in her tracks, however, when she witnessed another man approaching the fire. He was the one Alistair referred to as "Duncan", Morrigan noticed, and he didn't appear to be very pleased at all. He stormed up to The Warden, folded his arms and said, "Well...what do you have to say for yourself?"

"What do you mean?" The Warden asked.

"You know full well what I mean." Duncan retorted sternly, "You've willingly neglected your duties on repeated occasions. It's disgraceful! And now I'm told you've chosen to settle down and start a family. With a maleficar, no less! You are a Grey Warden; such things are not meant for us."

"Duncan...I..."

"No! Not another word! What you've done has shamed us all!" the elder warden fumed, "You are not worthy of the title 'Grey Warden'. You disgust me. Get out of my sight."

A look of regret hung on The Warden's face while he turned from Duncan and walked away from the fire. A gasp escaped Morrigan, having heard the entire exchange. She had no idea that he felt as he did or that it troubled him so deeply. The Warden was a man who took his ideals very seriously, and his self-perceived selfishness was tearing at him constantly. This was a part of her warden that the witch didn't like seeing. She felt the strangest urge. Her gut compelled her to try to do something to make things better for him. It mattered to her that he was bothered, especially considering she was the cause.

"Dwemer!" she shouted, running to him.

He looked around, as if he heard her shout but couldn't tell where it came from. She cried out his name again as she neared. This time he turned his face directly towards her but he still did not see her clearly.

She grabbed his arm and squeezed, "Please, you have to listen to me!" the witch pleaded desperately.

"Morrigan?" he said, puzzled, "What are you doing here? I haven't met you yet."

"'Tis but a dream, my love." Morrigan said, trying hard to say the right things to get through to him, "We are in the Fade. Do you not remember?"

"No, no, no. This is all wrong. You shouldn't be here. We haven't gone into the wilds, yet."

"The blight ended long ago. 'Twas you that stopped it, remember? You are dreaming."

"I'm dreaming?"

"Yes, my love. You are dreaming."

"Then that means you're not really here, doesn't it? It means...it means I'm lying alone somewhere on a cold forest floor. And... and I'm still trying to get back to you..."

"What of the demon?"

"Demon?" he asked, confused momentarily, "Oh...right. The demon. She was pretending to be you, but I found out. She vanished, I think. It's so hard to remember anything..."

"Can you tell me where she took you?"

"An...island. That's it. A big island in the sea."

"Alistair sent a ship to search for you. You must find a way to reach it." Morrigan urged. Her tone then softened, "You must come back to me. I miss you. I...I need you." she said.

She grabbed his hand and softly squeezed. The glossy looked faded from his eyes. He was fully aware at last. Without hesitation, he wrapped his witch in his arms as tightly as he could. "Morrigan...my, Morrigan." he whispered to her, "I will make it back to you. I swear it."

And even though they were not truly together, she still felt the warmth of his lips as he pressed them to hers in a deep kiss. Her knees became weak and she fell into his arms, her hands pulling him closer to her.

"My time is nearly done." she said after he released her, "I will be unable maintain this connection for much longer." the witch's statement confirmed by the fact that she had already begun to fade from view.

"Morrigan! Don't leave!" he pleaded.

"You must find Alistair's ship. Whatever you do, you must come back to me safely..." Morrigan barely had a chance to finish before she faded completely from his view and was gone.

"_Morrigan_!" The Warden yelled at the top of his lungs, desperate to bring back his witch.

* * *

"Morrigan!" The Warden exclaimed, violently waking from his dream. Sweat trickled down his cheek while early morning rays of sunlight pierced the leaves in small patches around him. The dream had left him shaken and his heart hung like a lump in his chest from longing. He knew it was really her that was in his dream, his connection letting him know that she was greatly relieved.

He remembered everything. She said Alistair sent a ship for him. He needed a way to get off the island and find it. That was no small order. He hadn't even been able to find his way out of the frustrating forest yet, let alone find a means off the island. He knew he didn't have a great deal of time, either. The ship would only be in the area for a short while before leaving. And lastly, there was the task of actually locating the ship in the vast open sea.

He stood from his spot against a tree and stretched his arms and aching back, which popped loudly while he let out an approving grunt of relief. He looked around slowly, trying to get his bearings. To his right was a large clump of shrubbery that blocked the view beyond. However, it seemed that there was more sunlight coming from behind the bushes than from elsewhere. He reached out his arm and bent the bushes back with his hand, trying to see around the shrubs.

His eyes were greeted by a lush meadow with low rolling hills that ran from the forest's edge down to the shore at the back of the island. The Warden could see two smaller piers extending out into the water, bracketing a larger one. A medium length ship was docked at the larger pier, while a smaller craft occupied the leftmost one with the pier on the right being empty. Down the shoreline a bit, he could see three more piers that were still under construction. The pilings had been driven into the murky sea bed and a skeletal framework of wood connecting the pilings had been erected. The rest was unfinished. Piles of wood and material scattered near the small beach illustrated that the other piers would not remain incomplete for long. Why the order would need so many places to moor ships was unknown. As far as The Warden was able to tell, this island wasn't anywhere near the normal shipping lanes.

Built atop one of the hills was another structure constructed in the same style as the temple, only much larger in size. The tall stone walls surrounding the complex were some three hundred feet long in any direction. The towers of a large central building stood proudly above the rest of the structure. Meanwhile, the gate on the southern end was opened with two large men clad in red robes guarding it.

The Warden looked back and forth several times between the small boat docked by the shore and the walled compound, trying to find the nerve to forget about the mysterious structure, and instead, just head for the boat. But his curiosity won out, as it always did, and he silently crept from the forest's edge and across the meadow towards the compound.

He crouched low to the ground, hidden among the tall grass. When he came to the top of a small ridge, he lay down and peered through the grass, observing the towers and the two men guarding the gate. He noticed the towers were apparently manned, at least on this side of the complex. The two back towers in the southern wall each contained a pair of men, their eyes scanning the surrounding area vigilantly. Still many more men lay inside. The Warden could hear them. He figured their numbers to be in the hundreds - many more than the few priests at the temple on the other side of the island.

A horn trumpeted from somewhere inside the compound. Three long blasts echoed off the stone walls, the sound startling several groups of birds in the meadow into flight. The men at the gate immediately ran through it, as if heeding a call. Likewise, the men in the towers disappeared from view. The Warden, not believing his luck, hopped up from his spot and moved in closer, hiding against the wall just by the gate.

Stretching his neck around the corner, The Warden was able to peer inside. What he saw forced the color from his skin. The interior of the complex was huge. A large main building with a tall tower on each side lay near the northern end. Along the east and west walls were long buildings that looked to be housing of some sort, possibly barracks. In the center were the things that concerned The Warden most.

It seemed he had gravely miscalculated the number of men inside. Before him stood an army that numbered in the thousands. They stood assembled in rank and file, facing north towards the main building. There were many banners denoting companies and brigades. These men were covered in shiny plate armor and carried finely made weapons. This was no mish-mash of peasants; this was a highly trained and capable fighting force. Why Denolian hid an entire army away was a complete mystery to The Warden. But it was one he intended to solve.

Two figures appeared from the main building, walking down the steps to stand at a large podium made from black marble. The first was shrouded beneath a pitch black robe, his face covered by the large hood. The second was adorned in a more elaborate red robe than the other members of the order, his being lined with white and gold symbols and markings.

The men gathered below began to shout, "Hail the Black Warden!" over and over until it turned into a loud chant. The dark figure put out his hands to silence the throng.

"Faithful soldiers of the Maker!" he called out to them, "Our time is almost here. Soon the Calling will unite us and we will march across the face of Ferelden and purge it of the evil that infests the land. Work steadfastly my brothers. We only have a short time left to prepare."

When the black figure finished, a large ovation erupted from the assembled men. They cheered the man wildly as if he were their greatest champion. The noise was deafening, made worse by the reverberation off the stone walls.

"Hey! What're you doing?" a man's voice shouted at The Warden. The Warden turned to face the voice and saw it to be one of the guards returning to his post. "You don't belong here!"

The Warden quickly pulled his blades from their sheaths against his back. In a flash, he twirled around and impaled the robed man with his cold steel. Both blades sinking deep into the man's stomach and he slumped to the ground.

As the Warden withdrew his swords from the lifeless body of the first guard, he looked up to see the second guard some distance away, also returning to his post. The man stopped in his tracks upon seeing The Warden and the other guard lying dead beneath him.

"Oh, shit." The Warden said, spun around, and ran from the gate as fast as his feet would carry him.

The dumbfounded guard finally regained his senses and began shouting "Intruder!" which rang out across the compound.

The Warden could hear the shouts of many angry men rushing to the south gate. The men in the towers returned to their place and rained down arrows on him as he attempted his escape, their sharp points whizzing by him, inches from their mark. Dodging, ducking, and weaving, The Warden scrambled to get across the field to the pier and the small boat docked there. He looked over his shoulder to see a tangled mass of men running after him, weapons drawn. Some of the men were fast, gradually overtaking the rest of the pack and gaining ground on The Warden, whose armor, light though it was, hampered his speed.

He drew his blades and turned to face the first soldier who had far outrun the rest. The man raced forwards, thrusting out his sword before him. A loud clang rang out as The Warden deflected the soldier's attack. Seeing that he didn't have much time before more soldiers were on him, he shoved the soldier's blade to the side with the sword in his left hand, while the sword in the right forced its way deep into the unfortunate man's chest, stabbing between his ribs and piercing his heart.

With a desperate shove, The Warden pushed the soldier's limp body away and resumed running toward the boat as fast as he could. Stopping to fight the first soldier had cost him distance and he knew he'd have to face several more soldiers by the time he reached the dock. And just as his feet reached the wooden pier, another soldier's blade lunged for him. The Warden dodged to the side, grabbed the man's arm firmly with one hand, and popped his elbow backwards with a quick blow from the other. The soldier let out a yell of agony as his sword fell from his hand and clattered harmlessly against the pier. The Warden kicked the man's legs out from under him and pushed him backward into the water.

The Warden jumped into the small boat, which was barely fifteen feet or so in length. The single mast in the middle held a lone sail. To The Warden's dismay, however, the sail was still gathered up and not ready for use. Fortunately there were two oars fixed near the middle of the boat. He drew his blade and cut the rope that was tied to the pier.

As The Warden pushed the vessel away from the pier, another soldier raced to the end and jumped off into the boat, his weapon readied. The Warden wrapped his hands around the mast and pulled backward with all his might, causing the boat the lean hard. The soldier stumbled, and just when he was almost able to grab the side and hold on, The Warden swung around the mast to the other side and pulled hard again, forcing the boat to wildly swing the other way. The soldier was thrown against the opposite side of the boat, tipped back, and fell over the side making a large splash. The Warden sat at the oars and began to row the boat farther from the pier.

The rest of the soldiers made their way to the dock, standing at the end and shouting. Some threw their weapons at him, which bounced harmlessly off the side for the most part, while a few others jumped in and attempted to swim after him. But they were unable to catch up to The Warden as the boat moved away from shore and into the open sea.

When the threat from the men on shore was passed, he was able to notice that the larger vessel didn't seem to have anyone aboard. That meant it would take some time before they were ready to pursue him. He unfurled the sail as rapidly as he could. He was no sailor, but he was able to get the simple rigging working and the sail filled with a stiff wind, blowing him away from the island. The Warden looked back at the compound to see the black robed man standing on one of the towers, observing him until he was out of view. A cold glare emanated from somewhere beneath the figure's black hood. The Warden knew it wasn't the last time he would see this man. In the meantime, he sailed his boat into the open waters on his way back to his witch.

He figured it was best not to linger at sea more than was necessary, as the small boat he stole was hardly made to brave the sea. If he was unable to locate Alistair's ship, then he would do his best to make it to shore on his own. It wouldn't be long before the order was able to launch the other ship and come after him, added to that were to dark clouds forming overhead that threatened to release a turbulent storm very soon.

Taking the small vessel southward, he left the island behind him in the distance. The waves started getting higher while strong winds blew the storm front in from the north. The gusts improving his speed vastly, but the boat would still be overtaken by the storm before long. If he didn't see any sign of Alistair's ship soon, the boat may be brought to the bottom by the coming storm and his escape from the island would have been in vain.

To the southeast he saw a glimmer of white against the horizon. He pulled the rudder sharply and headed for it. He stood in the boat and shielded his eyes from the glare, staring off at the dark speck with the white top in the distance. His hope rose when he recognized the object as a large ship heading toward him. Soon he was able to make out all three masts of the speedy ship that closed on him. The Warden could have cared less of those aboard were pirates or not.

The ship had gotten to within a few hundred yards of him and was still approaching quickly. The closer it got, the more he was able to make out the details on the vessel. The ship sailed under the royal banner, with the Theirin coat of arms proudly displayed on the sails. The deck was heavily manned by sailors in like uniforms. But the most convincing evidence that his rescuers had come was the loud, high-pitched, gleeful squeal that came from the ship when it was nearly upon him.

"Leliana..." The Warden said, shaking his head and chuckling to himself.


	13. Chapter 13

**Part XIII**

Dyana and Fergus, accompanied by several guards, walked down the road towards the village on their way to see Altavar at the temple. Their plan was a simple one: Fergus would distract the priest long enough for the captain to rummage through his personal belongings. If they could find something a bit more convincing than just a vague letter, Fergus would instruct his men to arrest all of the priests for murder and treason to the crown. But those were serious charges and would require serious proof. Until they had such proof, it was pointless to make a scene.

"May I ask you something, my lord?" Dyana politely asked the Teyrn as they walked.

"What's that?" he replied.

"I'm curious to know how you view your...newest family member. Certainly you don't approve of your brother's actions."

"Ah..." he said, "You mean Morrigan. Well...she can be a bit...erm...how can I say this..._different_...on occasion."

"'Different' is hardly a word I would use to describe her." the captain huffed, "She's a vile and evil woman. Seriously, what would your father say about this?"

"Expressing your opinion is evidently something you have no problems doing."

"Forgive me, my lord. I meant no insult."

"No. It's alright. How can I explain this..." the Teyrn said, pausing to think about his words before continuing, "Don't think that Morrigan is a woman without character simply because she doesn't believe what you or I believe. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. She fights for what she thinks is right. I think our father would be proud of my brother for being with someone he respects and who respects him in return."

"I see..." she muttered flatly, "So having a maleficar for a sister-in-law doesn't bother you?"

"A chaste and pious woman of the Chantry would never have suited my brother. It would have been more of a surprise if that was the type of girl he chose. At least Morrigan is honest about who she is and what she does. That's more than I can say for most of the other people I know. Morrigan doesn't pretend to be something she's not. In that sense, she's more pure than some of those in the Chantry." Fergus explained as they neared the village, "While she can saw a man in half with that tongue of hers, I have to admit, I've gotten quite fond of her. At least she can keep that brother of mine in check. That alone is worth it."

"That wasn't quite the answer I expected."

"What do you want hear? That she turns the servants into toads when they give her the slightest provocation? That really isn't her way. At least I hope it isn't." the Teyrn said with a nervous smile, "And since we're digging into each other's personal lives, what's with you and the king?"

"What do you mean?" the captain asked, eying the Teyrn.

"You know what I mean. Every time he looks at you, your cheeks get red as roses. And he can barely keep from wetting himself whenever you're around. I think he might even ask you to have dinner with him."

"Do you really think so?" she asked, becoming suddenly excited. However, Dyana quickly regained her composure, "I mean...that would be nice."

"Right. Nothing going on. Nothing at all." Fergus said with a wry grin.

The party strolled through the village gates and down the main road towards the west side of town where the temple was located. The villagers who saw the group gawked and stared; those nearest Fergus bowed deeply in reverence as the Teyrn walked by. As expected, Altavar was outside the temple standing atop a small crate while he addressed a few more potential recruits for the order. Dyana waited until he finished speaking before approaching him.

"I've brought someone to meet you." she said to the priest while gesturing towards the Teyrn.

"Teyrn Fergus, it is a distinct pleasure." Altavar said with a cordial bow.

"I've heard a great deal about you. I must say, my interest has certainly been piqued." Fergus replied.

"I am honored that the mighty Teyrn of Highever, himself, has heard of me. Tell me what I, your humble servant, can do for you, my lord?"

"The good captain here was telling me that you think that the Chantry has gone soft; that you know the Maker's true plan. In light of certain events...let's just say I've become a bit concerned, myself. I want to learn more."

"Certainly, my lord. I would be happy to answer any questions about the Order of Bohlen you might have."

"While you men talk, I need to powder my nose." The captain said, excusing herself from the conversation.

"Powder your nose?" Fergus asked, puzzled, "Why would you do something like that?"

"When I say 'powder my nose it doesn't actually mean I have to powder my nose..." Dyana tried to explain.

"I don't understand. Then why would you..." the Teyrn tried to ask before being cut short by the priest.

"I believe I understand what the captain is saying. Go to the back of the worship hall and follow the corridor to the door on the end. I believe you'll find what you are looking for there, my dear." Altavar informed.

"Thank you, Altavar." the captain said, and she turned and headed inside the temple.

Dyana, of course, knew all too well were the lavatory was, after having recently spent several hours there. Since it was located near the priest's chambers, excusing herself to proceed to the lavatory was made part of her ploy_. _It gave her a convenient excuse to be in that part of the temple. The Teyrn was aware of her plan all along. He was just being an ass earlier. It was a trait the Cousland brothers shared.

With all three priests at the front of the temple it would be possible to break into Altavar's room unseen. Dyana pulled her simple set of lock picks from a pouch that hung from her belt. Slowly she slid the metal pins into the lock, trying to apply just the right amount of tension. She felt towards the back of the lock; her hook pin moving the first tumbler into position. Her hands stayed steady as her fingers gently pulled the tools into the next slot. The next tumbler was a bit more persistent in retaining its position, but with a bit of convincing, the captain was able to get it to slide into place. The last tumbler was worse yet. It seemed to be stuck on something and wouldn't budge. Dyana wiggled her pick against the wedged tumbler without success. She tried plying a bit more force, hoping to speed the process along. Still, the tumbler refused to give, so even more tension was applied, until her hook pin snapped in two with a loud pinging sound.

"Damn!" the captain exclaimed, looking around her to see if anyone else had heard the noise.

She withdrew what was left of her picks and returned them to the pouch at her waist. She turned about and returned down the corridor the way she came, out through the worship hall and past the two larger priests who stood beside the doorway. Once outside, she located the Teyrn, who was still listening to Altavar pontificate on the virtues of the order.

"Perhaps we should be going, my lord." she said to Fergus who in turn gave her a knowing nod in recognition.

"This has been most...enlightening. But I believe the captain is right." he said to the priest, shaking his hand.

"It is always a pleasure to receive such dignified guest, my lord. Maybe we shall see you here again." Altavar replied with a humble bow and a smile.

"You never know." Fergus returned.

The group started back towards the castle, enduring the same stares and deep bows on the return trip as they had before. Dyana informed Fergus that she was unsuccessful in her attempt to gain access to Altavar's chambers; the lock being sturdier than her picks. And until they could find a way into his chambers and gather more damning evidence, the Teyrn and King's hands were bound. The mention of The Warden's disappearance in the letter from Denolian wasn't enough. Most of Ferelden knew he had gone missing by now, and there was no claim of responsibility, so that in itself was insufficient grounds to act.

"We'll have to come up with a new plan." Fergus noted as they traveled back to the castle.

* * *

The large white lateen sails tugged against the wooden masts and yardarms as the stiff breeze blew across the sea and the great sheets gorged with wind. The Gryphon was a truly fast ship and a magnificent splendor to behold. She was the flagship of Alistair's navy, and by far, the grandest. Unlike the knarr's and cog's that normally sailed these waters, which boasted no more than one mast, the Gryphon sported three masts She came complete with a large aftercastle at the stern and a forecastle on the bow. She was close to seventy five feet in length, much longer than any other vessel in the king's fleet. Her complicated rigging required a massive crew of over thirty sailors to work the decks. She had been commissioned by Alistair's brother, Cailan, and was designed to be grander than any other ship that came before her. But, due to his untimely death at Ostagar, he was unable to see the ship finished.

The Warden leaned against the railing that lined the deck, staring blanking out into the open sea. It had been a day since his rescue, and now the ship was on course for Highever. Soon he would be reunited with his witch. The _real_ Morrigan. He felt horrible about being fooled by the demon and expected Morrigan to spend a long time expressing her displeasure over his naivety. He deserved it, he thought. He should have known better, but he didn't.

Leliana had briefed The Warden on the current situation and informed him that much transpired in the few days he'd been away. They told him they figured out it was a desire demon that lured him away and that the dragon had been lured to the castle deliberately, although they didn't know who was responsible. His stomach knotted tightly in his gut and his fists clenched at his sides when the bard mentioned the attack outside the cave. The fact that he wasn't there to protect his witch disturbed him greatly. His foolishness had put her life at risk. The bard didn't have the heart to mention the young warden, Silas, or Morrigan's unfortunate loss, figuring such bad news could wait a bit longer.

It appeared that Denolian was trying to detain The Warden for as long as possible. If the real Morrigan were dead, the demon would have replaced the witch and carried out the charade for as long as needed, assuming the demon could continue to fool The Warden. Something which proved to be harder than anticipated. Still, however, there was no one to say the order wouldn't try such a tactic again. It was something he would have to guard against. The mad priest was planning something very big, but The Warden had little clue as to what it might be. Though, with such a well equipped army in hiding, one thing was perfectly clear: Denolian was going to invade Ferelden.

"You've been awfully quiet since we picked you up." the bard's concerned voice said from behind him.

"Sorry." he replied, still looking to the distance, "I was just thinking."

"I can see that. The question is: what about?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Dwemer, I know you." Leliana said in her thick Orlisian accent, "I know how you think. This wasn't your fault. You shouldn't feel guilty about what happened."

"I should have seen it. I should have known better."

"None of us are perfect. All of us make mistakes...even you."

"With me it's different."

"How so?"

"When I make a mistake...people die." he muttered as he turned to face her, "I wonder how many more will be dead when this is all over with."

"You don't know that anyone will die after this…"

"Denolian has an _army_, Leliana!" The Warden exclaimed, "What do you think he intends to do with it? At some point he's going to use that army. It's up to me to find out how and when, so I can stop him before he does."

"_We_ will stop him. Together." she corrected, "All of us."

"Thanks, Red. I have a feeling I'm going to need all the help I can get."

"And what are you two over here conspiring about?" Zevran asked jokingly as he approached.

"We were only saying that things are about to get much more...interesting." the bard replied.

"Isn't that always so?" the elf quipped, "The more I'm around our friend here, the more 'interesting' things seem to get."

"We'll have to fight an army this time." The Warden added.

"Another army? So, we face certain death once more." Zevran said, "At least you have the pleasant task of reuniting with your fare witch to look forward to, No? I suspect after what happened she will be very relieved to see you."

The Warden asked, "Why? What happened?" his tone instantly becoming serious.

"_Zevran_!" Leliana fumed through clenched teeth.

"What? He's going to find out eventually." the elf said coolly.

"Find out about _what_? What are you two talking about?" The Warden asked again.

"Something happened to Morrigan..." the bard replied.

"Is she alright?"

"She's fine. She was not injured, but something terrible happened, nonetheless."

"I can sense something's been troubling her. But I can't tell what it is. I only know that she's upset about something."

"I think it's best if we let her tell you, herself."

"Fine..." The Warden said, only half agreeing.

More anxious to return to his witch than ever, The Warden leaned against the railing and cast his stare back out to the open water while the ship continued southeast, on course towards Highever. As the sun set behind them in the west, long shadows from the masts reached out ahead of the ship like fingers that clawed at the sea, dragging the vessel along to its destination.

The Warden could feel the worry and sadness coming from Morrigan. The only other time he'd left her alone was back in Orzamar, with Leliana. While he was away, she was attacked by templars outside the city gates. And now, even though it was unintentional, he had left her alone again. And this time, she was attacked outside of a cave. Something else happened to her as well, although the bard and elf remained tight-lipped about what exactly 'it' was. She would never permit him to constantly hover over her shoulder, no matter how strong an oath to protect her he made. The Warden began to think that maybe bringing Morrigan into his world wasn't the best idea, after all. Maybe it would have been safest if he left them her where she was.

But he didn't. His own selfishness forced him to abandon his duties as a Grey Warden and go after her, even though she made it clear that she never wanted to be found. But _he_ couldn't bear to be without her. He should have respected her wishes and left well enough alone, but his loathsome self-centered nature wouldn't allow him to. And even if he had it to do over again, he would change nothing. He couldn't help it. He was addicted to his witch.

* * *

It had been more than two days since Morrigan was able to use the orb to contact The Warden. And what had been relief, once again turned to worry. She paced back and forth in her chambers wondering if she got through to him. He seemed to be aware of her in that awful dream of his, but that was no guarantee that he would remember anything. While a letter was received from Amaranthine saying that the Gryphon set sail, there would be no further word until the ship returned, with or without her warden.

The witch reached out her hands, placing them against the cold stone of the window sill, and leaned against it. She stared out into the dark night that blanketed the castle. Torches and lamps lit the courtyard with a soft dim glow. It was rather late but anxiety and anxiousness would not permit Morrigan any sleep, even though she was exhausted. She cast an envious eye at Seth who lay asleep in her bed, bundled up in warm blankets and oblivious to the harsh realities of the world.

Suddenly, there was movement along the allure above the front gate of the castle. Morrigan watched several guards who had spied someone approaching up the road from the village. One pointed in different directions and shouted orders while two others hastily ran to the guard houses on either side of the gate. With a loud creaking sound, the iron gate began to rise, allowing those on the other side to pass.

There were three figures in all, but because of distance and darkness, Morrigan was unable to make out who they were. However, she didn't have to see clearly in order to know who it was. A guard's cry of "The Warden has returned! The Warden has returned!" rang out through the castle, confirming what the witch already knew.

Morrigan clasped her hands together, "_Thank you_." she mouthed silently.

The Warden ran up the steps to the main door and rushed inside. He raced through the corridors, brushing past sleepy-eyed servants and steadfast guards, until he was in front of his chambers. He paused briefly, placing his hand against the door. He let his fingers feel the rough wood, absorbing the emotions it brought. Never had he been more grateful to see it.

"I'm home." he said to himself.

He grabbed the metal ring, and with a twist of his hand, shoved the door open to find Morrigan standing behind it, waiting for him. "So, you've returned at last." She said coolly, but her large golden eyes beckoned him to give her the proper greeting she deserved.

Without a word, he wrapped her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that conveyed his longing which caused her to melt in his arms. She held his face in her hands and planted kisses of her own, in kind, before the emotions washed over her and she flung her arms around him and squeezed him as close as she could.

For a time they said nothing to each other, merely holding on as if it would be their last chance to ever do so. He consoled the witch as she buried her face in his chest, ashamed of the tears she couldn't contain any longer. This had been the longest time they'd been apart since he found her, and it was tough on both of them.

Her gaze slowly rose to meet his, the flickering torches reflecting off her wet eyes. "At Denerim...after I left...I now know what it must have been like for you." she said softly, "I finally understand why you sought me out as you did. For, I would have gone to any lengths to find you."

"I'm so sorry I put you through that. I didn't know..." he muttered meekly, "I honestly thought she was you."

"Admittedly, twas hard to know that you lay in the arms of another, even though you believed twas I."

"Nothing happened between us. I swear. Even before I found out."

"Nothing at all?" the witch questioned, her voice filled with hope and disbelief.

"I won't lie." he said, "There were times when we came close."

"But you were never intimate?"

"No. Never. I don't even think she ever even saw me with my shirt off."

The constant ache in her chest faded and was replaced with a wave of relief. The witch squeezed him against her once more. Holding him tightly so that he might never again get away, Morrigan cursed the weakness that made her hollow without him. A weakness she would never be cured of.

"Leliana told me something happened to you, but she wouldn't tell me what." he said, "What was she talking about?"

"_Blast that cursed bard and her eternally loose tongue_!" the witch thought to herself while her face tightened in a grimace.

"Morrigan...?" he said, his eyes staring straight into hers to let her know he was awaiting her answer.

Morrigan let out a heavy sigh, "Very well," she groaned, "I had hoped these things could have waited until later. Preferably much later."

"What happened that was so bad? What are you afraid to tell me?"

"I had intended to tell you of the child after we returned from Redcliffe. But, as you well know, those plans have gone awry."

"Child? Whose child?"

"Your child. _Our_ child. I was going to tell you I was pregnant."

She turned away from him when she saw his eyes light up with joy as she knew they would. She couldn't bear to tell him the rest, but had to. "There is more, my love." she said with a trembling voice. "The child was lost."

Instantly The Warden's heart sank in his chest. He wrapped his arms around the witch and pulled her close. "How?" he whispered.

"Twas by my own foolishness." she replied softly as she turned within his arms to face him, "Oh, my husband, we've much to discuss this night. And none of it good."

Normally, the witch prided herself in her uncanny ability to inflict damage as severe as any blade with her words. But not on him. Not like this. They had been reunited for barely a few minutes and already she was forced to hurt him with her words. Morrigan had the unfortunate task of telling The Warden not only about their lost child, but about Silas as well. It was news she was reluctant to deliver, especially considering the circumstances of the young warden's death.

He took the loss of his protégé exceptionally hard. The young warden had meant the world to him. Silas reminded The Warden of himself in the not too distant past; alone in the world and trying to find his way. An ache filled the center of The Warden's chest, as if a very important part of him had suddenly been ripped away. A part he could never get back. His legs lost their strength and he had to sit down, nearly collapsing into a chair beside the table. The witch placed her hand softly against his shoulder to comfort him. With a soft voice, Morrigan informed him that there was still more he needed to hear. It was perhaps the hardest part for her to tell.

At first he denied Silas' betrayal. He told Morrigan that she needed to reexamine the evidence. To think the lad was capable of something so heinous was nonsense. The boy may have been a bit rough around the edges, but he would never knowingly lead them into a trap. Those were things that no Grey Warden would ever do, least of all Silas.

Eventually though, after much convincing, The Warden came to see the logic of the witch's words as he bowed his head and muttered, "Silas...what have you done?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Part XIV**

Though the morning sun shone brightly in the sky, throwing out rays of light across the lands, a darkness and gloom hung over the private chambers of The Warden and his witch. Much had been lost while he was away and now it was time to mend those wounds and find a way to set things right.

Morrigan had shown very little of how much she grieved over the loss of the child. That is, until The Warden returned. While her pregnancy had been unplanned, it was something the witch had become quite attached to and was greatly looking forward to being able to bring something good into the world for once. Not that Seth wasn't good, she felt, but the circumstances surrounding his conception were dark and full of lies.

The Warden had been staggered by the one-two combination of the loss of his child and the loss of his protégé. Neither he nor the witch slept as they spent the night in each others arms, her head resting on his chest. With a soft voice she spoke and he listened while she opened up to him the pain she'd concealed from the others. As the night waned and darkness began to give way to light, the couple stood entwined and silent, each feeling as if the mere presence of the other was all that was needed to make the world right.

Morrigan stared intently into her warden's eyes, whispering, "Why must you affect me so?"

"I ask myself the very same question." The Warden replied with a small grin.

"I do not care if I am a fool. " Morrigan said earnestly with her soft voice, "You are my greatest weakness. I am powerless against you."

"As am I against you." he whispered as he returned her stare.

She reached out and placed her hand against his cheek, "Do not blame yourself for what happened, my love. Twas no fault of yours. Had the dragon not injured you, the order would have simply inserted their demon using other means."

"I'll believe that when you believe losing the baby wasn't your fault."

The witch grimaced slightly and looked away. For a while Morrigan said nothing, only staring down at the floor. She reached out her hands and gently took his, feeling their roughness against her soft skin while her thumbs traced small soft circles on the backs of his hands. "I wish...I wish to try again." she said meekly.

"You want to _try_ to have a baby?" he asked, surprised by the witch's statement.

"Why is that so odd? I just finished telling you of my grief, did I not?"

"I know you really wanted the baby, Morrigan. That's not what I meant and I'm sorry if that's what it sounded like. It's just that...I know you love your independence and having another baby will require a lot of time and effort from both of us. That and I don't think now would be the best time to try to add to our family, considering current events."

"'Twill be some weeks yet before I am fully recovered. Hopefully we shall have the current threat to Ferelden thwarted by such time and we may try then."

"Is that what you really want?"

"Strangely...yes. More than anything."

"Sounds like a good plan to me, then."

"Is this what you desire as well? And not just to make me happy, but something you truly wish?"

"It's what I want very much. Nothing would make me happier."

Morrigan responded with by throwing her arms around The Warden and squeezing him tightly.

The sounds of tiny limbs rustling about under soft sheets attracted the attention of both the witch and The Warden as their gazes turned towards the large bed to notice Seth stirring from his slumber. With a large yawn, the child stretched his arms over his head. He looked at his parents through groggy eyes, tufts of his black hair sticking up from having been slept on. He sleepily slid himself out of the bed and stumbled across the stone floor until he was at his mother's feet where he stood, looking up at Morrigan expectantly. With a grunt, the witch hoisted her son up and rested him against her left hip.

Watching her son rub his eyes with his tiny fists, accompanied by another long yawn, the witch said, "'Tis obvious what I shall be doing for the next hour. I suggest you use the time to bathe yourself and shave before we go see that brother of yours. Your wiry bristles are beginning to scratch my skin."

"As you wish, my lady." The Warden replied with a deep bow before turning and going to the door and opening it; requesting the servants outside bring him a tub full of hot water.

Morrigan rolled her eyes and sighed, saying, "Impossible man." before starting her usual morning routine of changing Seth and preparing him to do down to the kitchen for his breakfast.

When she returned from the kitchen a short time later, she opened the door to find The Warden facing away from her, pulling a white silk shirt over his head, his long brown locks still wet from bathing. "Have you finished making yourself pre..." Morrigan stopped dead in her tracks when he turned around to face her. "Oh, my. What have you done to yourself?" she asked, stunned.

"I shaved my beard off. It was your idea, after all."

"Ah...Twas I, indeed. I had entirely forgotten the matter."

"Well, what do you think?" he asked while he rubbed his hand over his now smooth face.

"You look like such a _child_!" the witch answered, giggling, "I had no idea that small band of fur on your face could change your appearance so."

"Oh, ha-ha." he said with a smirk, leaning closer to her, "But how does it feel?"

Morrigan lifted herself upwards to him and placed her soft lips against his in a tender kiss. "I must say..." she said after reluctantly prying herself from him, "'Tis rather smooth. Twill be hard to decide which I prefer."

"Well, think about it and let me know. Right now, though, we need to go see Fergus and Alistair."

"You have much to tell them, I am sure."

"You have no idea."

* * *

The sound of pacing boots echoed throughout Denolian's temple chambers. Though, it was not the priest, himself, who paced. Instead it was the black robed man who stomped back and forth, noticeably aggravated. The dark priest was sitting in his velvet cushioned chair, his hands clasped together in front of him. His mind was elsewhere, contemplating and planning. The succubus was there as well, wearing an odd look of nervousness and fidgeting in her spot.

"This was all your fault, demon!" the robed man shouted, "I should send you back to the oblivion you came from, myself!"

The noise distracted Denolian and he snapped out of his daze, saying, "This is merely a minor setback. We'll just have to accelerate our actions."

"We can't do that! We don't even have the blasted amulet yet. You know we can't perform the ritual without it. It's the key to everything. If you would have let me handle this in the first place, instead of that miserable demon, we wouldn't be in this mess." the robed man shot back.

"Calm down, Warden. There's no need to get upset. Everything is under control." Denolian said in a calm, soothing voice, "Everything on the other side of the island is nearly ready and, with a small nudge, that fool Grey Warden will undoubtedly retrieve the amulet for us."

"What do you mean?"

"I was aware that the demon would probably fail and planned for just such a situation as this. I told The Warden some half-truths about the amulet and he is already aware of its existence. I told him it was called 'The Eye of the Maker'. I doubt, however, that he believes any of the story at this point. I intend to change that and, at the same time, reveal its importance to us. A risky move, to be sure. However, knowing how important it is, he will venture off and acquire the item for himself."

"And how exactly does that help us?" the black robed man asked.

"You're not seeing the bigger picture." Denoliad replied, "When he rushes off to snatch the amulet, you simply follow him and take it."

"This is The Grey Warden we're talking about. I doubt if he'd just let me have it."

"Yes, but he never travels with more than four in his company, and one of those is bound to be the maleficar. I strongly doubt even he would put up much of a resistance to fifty blades drawn on his throat, or better still, hers."

"Fifty men. A hundred. It doesn't matter." the desire demon said, "You won't be able to stop him."

"Silence you!" The robed man yelled.

"I was around him. I shared his thoughts. I've seen into his soul and know that he is not like any other mortal. He's going to come and he's going to kill all of us."

"_You_, my dear, are afraid of a mere man?" Denolian asked, eying the demon curiously.

"He is no mere man. There is powerful magic in his blades and he uses them with such deadly proficiency. His will is unbreakable and he won't stop until he sees us dead. He slays high dragons and gods. What chance do I have against such a man?"

"She is right about one thing: he _is_ coming. He knows about the army, he'll bring the king and a large invasion force with him, I'm sure." the robed man remarked.

"I know." Denolian replied, "But to assemble a sizable enough army will take some time. And when The Warden and King Alistair gather their forces, we'll have a little surprise ready for them. In the meantime, however, we have work to do."

* * *

As the Warden and Morrigan made their way through the corridors and to the main hall, they endured the many gawking stares of the castle folk, most of whom had never seen The Warden clean shaven before. The witch giggled to herself at the odd looks that were cast at him. Some of the servants even had to do double-takes; not recognizing him at first.

When the couple finally made it to the main hall, they found Leliana, Alistair, Zevran, Dyana, and Fergus were already there waiting. Immediately there were stunned gasps and jaws dropped open as those gathered instantly noticed The Warden's bare chin.

"I haven't seen _that_ face in a long time." Fergus said, "You still look like the very same boy you were when you got that scar on your chin."

Rubbing his chin, The Warden replied, "I never got to thank you for that, either. I'll have to do that someday."

"No need. It was my pleasure."

"I hardly recognized you without your beard. You certainly do look...uhm...younger." Leliana said, politely.

"Perhaps we could add a few more scars here and there? Mar his boyish looks a bit and maybe roughen his face." the elf suggested, though the others weren't quite sure if he was joking or not.

"I can quite assure you all that other parts of his body would indicate that he is very much a man, indeed." Morrigan purred.

Alistair wiggled in place, saying, "I hate it when you do that. It sends shivers down my spine."

"You can all poke fun at me later, right now we have more important things to worry about." The Warden said and explained his recent experiences in great detail to the others. He told them of the temple and its inhabitants, and of the cursed forest that lay beyond. But most importantly he spoke about the large army that Denolian had hidden away on the island. And, although The Warden didn't know the priest's exact plan, stopping that army was the top priority.

"At last, our troublemaker is revealed." the teyrn said, "This Denolian seems to want nothing less than all of Ferelden."

"My lords, your majesty..." Dyana said with bows each time, finally reaching the witch, "_My lady_..." the captain forced through her clenched teeth, accompanied by a half-hearted nod. It pleased Morrigan greatly to know how much Dyana hated saying the words, "I believe we should still find out everything Altavar knows."

"Who's Altavar?" The Warden asked.

"He's the leader of the local order temple. They're under the impression that I've joined their ranks. I still think we can use that to find out more about what they're up to. I know I can get into his room if I try again."

"I agree." The Warden replied, "But Leliana will go with you."

"Why would you want that?" the captain questioned, confused.

"How can I put this...Because we need the job to be done _right_ this time." Leliana answered, causing Morrigan to bust into a giggle.

"But she's a cloistered sister with the Chantry! Altavar will know something is wrong the second he sees her."

"Ex-sister." Leliana corrected.

"You left the Chantry?" Alistair asked, surprised, "When did this happen?"

"We can talk about that later. Right now, the good captain and I have preparations to make. Captain, tell me more about Altavar and his temple." the bard said as she and Dyana excused themselves to discuss the matter.

"I noticed that Denolian only had three piers built, and others still being finished." The Warden informed, "The only ship I saw could carry fifty men at most. He won't be able to move his army without more ships and places to moor them. We need to gather as many men as we can as quickly as we can, before Denolian has a chance to escape. He's no fool. He knows we're coming after him."

"Between the teyrn and myself we'll be able to muster roughly seventy five hundred men in several days time." Alistair noted.

"We'll need more than that. I saw at least twenty thousand men packed into a large barracks of some sort."

"We'll be able to count on Arl Eamon for soldiers, and most of the nobles in the bannorn as well. But it'll take weeks to gather enough men."

"That's too long. We don't have that much time. We need to be ready in a ten days."

"Ten days? Have you bumped your head?" Fergus asked, "We wouldn't be able to gather nearly enough men in that short amount of time."

"Eamon has over a thousand men of his own and could have them here in four days. Most of the nothern banns would take even less time if we hurry and get word to them."

"Even still, that won't give us more than ten thousand men." Fergus said.

"Then that will have to do." The Warden affirmed with a nod.

* * *

It had taken a few days, but at last, Captain Dyana and the bard, Leliana, had come up with what they believed was a suitable plan to once again infiltrate the Order of Bohlen temple in Highever. Dyana would approach the temple alone and greet Altavar so Leliana could slip around back, unseen, and create a diversion to draw all the priests from the temple, allowing the bard covert access. The captain was to stay with the priests and prevent them from reentering the temple too soon, or at the very least, warn Leliana that her time was up so that she may make a discreet and unnoticed exit.

The plan was highly risky, not just because the priests might spot and recognize Leliana, but the distraction would need to be large enough to grab the attention of the temple priests for at least a few minutes, as well. That meant creating a smokescreen. Literally. Once in position behind the temple's main building, the bard would set fire to the surrounding brush, and with luck, ignite the small wooden supply shack that lie a short distance from the rear of the temple. The small fire could turn into an all out blaze if she wasn't careful, however, as this portion of Highever was packed tightly with buildings and one stray spark would spell disaster. She was counting on the priests being able to respond before the fire got out of hand. The task of extinguishing the flames should keep the men occupied long enough for her to complete her job.

The two women headed into town, careful to part company before anyone could see them together. While Dyana took the main road to the temple on the west end of the village, Leliana stayed on the back paths and alleys. If all went well, they would not meet each other again until afterward. The only way Dyana would know if the bard had made it into position was the smoke the fire created as it billowed up into the sky.

The captain neared the temple and immediately it was clear to her that something wasn't right. Altavar was normally outside, standing on his box, and spreading the word of the order to those who were interested to hear it. But today there was no one. The large wooden doors to the temple were sealed shut and locked. The place was deserted. On the door a note had been hung which read:

_Faithful brothers and sisters, _

_The temple is closed as the priests have gone into seclusion to prepare for the night of the ritual, which will soon be upon us. Ready yourselves. All will be contacted when the time comes. May the Maker watch over you._

_Signed, Altavar. _

The stunned captain remembered the bard and hurried around the back of the building hoping to stop Leliana before she had a chance to start the flame. Her eyes scanned back and forth, intently looking for any sign of the stealthy bard, but could see none. Leliana had to be there, somewhere, Dyana thought. But try as she might, the captain was unable to locate any trace.

In frustration, Dyana called out, "Leliana! Don't do it! There's no one here!"

She stood there for a time waiting for some indication the the bard had heard her. "Leliana!" she cried out again.

Finally, the bard seemed to appear from nowhere and stood beside her, "It's a good thing you said something." Leliana said, "I had my flint and striker out already; about to use them."

"The door around front is locked shut. I can get it open if you give me a few minutes."

"I'll take care of it. You stand watch to make sure no one is looking." the bard replied as the two women made their way back around to the front of the temple.

"I don't see why _you_ have to do it. I'm pretty handy with a set of lock..."

"All done." Leliana said as the lock sprang free.

"Already?" Dyana asked, astonished.

"I've been picking locks of all types since you were a small girl. I've had a great deal of practice." the bard answered.

Once inside, the couple walked through the darkened worship hall and back to the priests' private quarters. The only light inside the temple came from the thin rays of sunlight that pierced the many small slits that served as windows. However, even in the darkness, the lock on Denolian's chambers gave the bard little trouble and her dextrous fingers were able to coax it open, much to the captain's amazement.

They quickly combed the room, looking for anything that might be of interest. On the desk rested a piece of paper. It was a letter to Altavar from Denolian instructing him to go into hiding until further notice. Additionally, the note informed that something called 'The Eye of Arvisarok' had been located in the Korcari Wilds to the far south and would soon be retrieved. Whatever this item was, it was important to the order for the letter also claimed that the ritual could not proceed without it. Everything, including the future plans of the order, hinged on finding this Eye of Arvisarok.

After reading the letter's entire contents, both women gave each other a knowing look. This note could quite possibly be the piece of the puzzle that they had been missing. The information it contained shed new light in some areas, but raised even more questions as it did. The only way to completely figure out what was going on was to find out as much about the ritual that seemed to be the focal point of everything. Dyana had heard Altavar mention it on occasion before, but he never fully explained what it was.

The captain and Leliana exited the temple, carefully making sure everything was exactly in its place, including the letter, so as not to draw suspicion from any order members who might happen to come check on the place. Once they returned to the castle, the two women would inform the others of what they found. It made sense to try to get to the Eye of Arvisarok before the order could, but the only thing they knew about its location was that it was somewhere deep in the Korcari Wilds. A dark and forbidding place that was likely to claim a man's life before it gave up any secrets.

In the meantime, there was still the matter of raising an army to deal with Denolian and his forces. It would need to be decided which was the more important of the two tasks: finding the Eye or gathering the army. And at this point, neither option looked particularly appealing.


	15. Chapter 15

**Part XV**

The fireplace roared with life while the wood inside cracked and popped from being consumed by the flames. The Warden sat in a large cushioned chair in front of the huge fireplace; deep in thought and staring blankly into the fire. While Ferelden faced yet another foe and darkness once again loomed on the horizon, his mind was consumed by different things. More personal things. Morrigan wanted to have another child. And while the idea of adding to their family very much appealed to him, he found himself also dealing with grave concerns.

Their life, or more specifically, _his life_ was a life of constant risk and danger. And even though Fergus was kind enough to look after Seth while he and the witch were away, they were away far too often. It was a trend that would seen to continue as well, for soon he would be leaving yet again. As always, there was the reality that he may not return.

His children deserved better, he felt. They deserved a father who would be there when they needed him. A father who could raise them safely and protect them. The Warden feared that he could do none of those things. But Morrigan wanted to have another child, and so did he, really. But deep down he wondered if it was actually the best thing to do.

"Am I disturbing you?" Fergus said after entering the den unnoticed by The Warden.

"What...?" The Warden replied as he snapped back from his thoughts, "Oh...no. I was just sitting here."

"Sitting there, huh? So...what's going on between you and Morrigan that's got you so glum, then?" the teyrn asked, knowingly.

"What gives you the idea there's something wrong?"

"Because, you never _just sit there_. Not you. _You_ would be making plans to deal with the order with the king, or locked up in your quarters with that witch of yours. So if you're sitting here alone in the den, that means you're brooding over something, which, in turn, means that there's a problem between you two."

"So you can tell all that just by me sitting in this chair?"

"I used to be married, too. Remember?"

"Well, for your information, things couldn't be better between Morrigan and me." The Warden retorted, "Everything is just great."

"Uh-huh. Is that so?" The elder Cousland asked in response, not believing a single word his brother said, "Then why were you sitting there with that stone face, staring off into the fire?"

"I don't want to talk about it." The Warden answered flatly, "Exactly why are you here, again?"

"Oh, come now. Tell your big brother what's going on in that head of yours. After all, if you can't talk to me then who can you talk to?"

"Well there's Morrigan for one...Alistair...Leliana..." The Warden listed off while he smiled sarcastically.

"Always the comedian, aren't you?" Fergus huffed, "Alright, fine. Don't tell me, then. See if I care." the teyrn finished with a pout and turned to walk away.

"You big baby!" The Warden exclaimed while he shook his head, "If you really want to know that bad, I'll tell you."

The teyrn turned to face his brother, "You don't have to be such an ass, you know."

"I was only joking before. Do you want to know or not?"

"Of course I do."

The Warden's face became serious, "Morrigan wants to try again." he said.

"Try _what_ again?" Fergus replied blankly.

"To have a child, you dunce!"

"A child? Well then, that's a good thing, isn't it? Unless that's not what you wanted, or you think you're not ready for more children."

"It's not that I don't want to, or that I'm not ready. I very much want to have another child. "

"What's the problem, then?"

"Me. I'm the problem."

"I don't understand."

"I am a Grey Warden. I will always be one, no matter how much I might pretend otherwise." The Warden explained, "What kind of father can I truly be, living the life I do?"

"I can't answer that for you. Only you can."

"Some help you turned out to be."

"That _is_ help. Somewhere inside you lies the true answer. It's up to you to search for it. When you find what you're looking for, you'll know it. You're a good man, Dwemer, with a good wife. I have no doubt you two will be just fine should you choose to have more children."

"Thanks, Fergus."

"And what exactly might you two be conspiring?" Morrigan said in greeting as she entered the den, Seth glued to her hip as usual.

"Da!" the child cried out when Morrigan set him down and he raced over to his father who promptly picked the toddler up and sat him on his lap.

"There's my big man!" The Warden exclaimed, "What were you two doing?" he asked the witch.

"'Tis nearly time to put Seth to bed for the night. So I came to fetch you..." the witch replied; her voice trailing off at the end.

"What?" The Warden asked.

"I don't believe I've ever been in this particular room before." Morrigan answered while she looked around the room.

"This is the den. Our father used it as his own private haven. He would receive visitors in the main hall or the study, but afterward, this is where he'd come when he wanted some peace and quiet." Fergus informed.

"I see." Morrigan remarked as her eyes scanned the paintings that lined the walls. "Tell me: who are these portraits of? Members of the Cousland family, no doubt. But what significance do they hold?"

"The paintings are of the greatest people the Cousland family has ever seen." The Warden answered as he began to point out specific paintings, "That's Sarim Cousland, the founder of the Cousland bannorn. And that over there is Haelia Cousland who was instrumental in stopping the werewolf threat back during the Dark Age."

"And who might this remarkable looking man be?" the witch asked as she pointed to the large painting hung directly above the fireplace.

"That's Edric Cousland."

"Hmm...why is that name so familiar to me...?" Morrigan said as she pondered.

"He was also a Grey Warden...some two hundred years ago. Back when the wardens still rode griffins through the sky. You probably heard the legend of how he and only a few men held Gherlen's Pass for almost three days against hundreds of darkspawn."

"No...'tis not that. 'Tis something else entirely. As if I knew this person in another life...or perhaps twas a dream. Whatever the case, 'tis not important. Right now, your son needs you to tuck him in for the night."

"Alright, big man, you heard your mother. Let's go get you into bed." The Warden said as he rose from his spot in the chair, Seth in his arms, and headed out of the den.

* * *

The king stood in the courtyard, allowing the sun's morning rays to warm him after another chilly night inside the castle. He was a man with a great deal on his mind and he couldn't think straight when he was cold. He was too distracted with thoughts of wanting to warm himself up. But once out in the sun, he quickly thawed and was soon able to think more clearly.

"Your Majesty..." Captain Dyana called out as she approached.

"Good Morning, captain." Alistair replied.

"Sire, the riders you asked for have been assembled and stand ready. All they need are the letters which they'll carry to the northern banns."

"Very good, captain."

"I couldn't help but notice that you aren't sending a courier to Arl Eamon in Redcliffe. May I ask why?"

"I have a suspicion that I know someone who'll want to deliver our request for soldiers personally." Alistair answered with a knowing smile.

"The Warden, I presume?"

"After what you and Leliana dug up, there's no doubt what he's going to do. And considering he'll pass Redcliffe along the way, it only makes sense. The way I figure, having him ask Arl Eamon face-to-face makes Eamon's help far more likely, anyway."

"Probably." the captain agreed, "I should be getting the letters for the riders so that they can be off."

"Right. They're on the teyrn's desk in his study."

The captain turned smartly on her heels and headed up the stairs to the door. "Oh, and Dyana..." Alistair muttered while his hand nervously rubbed the back of his neck, "Would you...I don't know...maybe one night if your not too busy..."

Dyana's face scrunched up in confusion, "Your majesty?" she said, puzzled.

Alistair paused and took a deep breath attempting to calm himself. When he at last found the nerve, he sheepishly asked, "Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?"

The captain's eyes lit up and a gasp escaped her. "You're asking me to have dinner with you?"

"You're right...you're right. Dumb idea. Forget I ever mentioned it."

"Why, your majesty, I would love to have dinner with you."

"You probably have so much to do. Come to think of it, so do I..." the king babbled on, not hearing the captain's reply.

"I said _yes_."

"Wha...? You did? Well, that's marvelous!" Alistair exclaimed while a large, boyish grin crossed his face.

"I have work to do, now. Pick what night you want to have dinner and tell me later." the captain said as she turned to head back up the steps into the castle, along the way, passing The Warden who was coming to see the king. "Warden..." the captain said in greeting with a sly grin on her face as they passed each other.

Once Dyana had gone through the wooden door and the sentry closed it behind her, the king swung his fist through the air in jubilation, shouting, "_Yes_!"

The Warden raised an eyebrow at his friend and asked, "What was that all about?"

"That? Oh, that was nothing. Just a bit of good news is all."

"You finally found the stones to ask her to dinner, didn't you?" The Warden inquired with a smile.

"How do you know about that? You've only been back a few days."

"Fergus told me." The Warden informed, his grin growing wider.

"Bah! You would think you two have better things to do than gossip like a couple of old hens."

The Warden could only laugh at his friend's comments.

"So, have you decided you're taking with you to the wilds?" Alistair asked.

"How did you know I was going there? I haven't said a word to anyone, yet."

"It was pretty easy to figure out, really. This Eye of Whatever seems to be pretty important to the Order of Bohlen. That and the ritual surrounding it. I know you too well, you won't let an opportunity like this slip past you. So...you never did answer my question. Who's going with you?"

"Morrigan will be going, of course. Not that she'd have it any other way. But she also grew up in the Korcari Wilds and knows it well. I'll also bring Leliana and Zevran along. And Leo needs some exercise, too. He's turning into a lazy castle hound."

"Just those few, then. Eh?" Alistair asked, sounding disappointed.

"You know you can't go. No matter how much I'd like to have you with. It's not like it used to be." The Warden replied.

"I know. But I still sorta hoped a little." Alistair sulked.

"It'll take longer than ten days, so don't wait for me. You have to stop Denolian's army before he gets a chance to use it."

"I will." the king acknowledged, "When you go, be careful. They're after that thing, too, you know. They're probably already out there. I'd like to have my best friend back in one piece."

"If I find him, I'll let him know." The Warden said sarcastically.

"Funny." Alistair replied.

The two men talked for a bit longer while Alistair convinced The Warden to take a small side trip to Redcliffe and talk to Arl Eamon. Initially, The Warden felt that even the short trek out of the way to Redcliffe was one he couldn't afford to take. The king argued that Eamon was more likely to respond to a request made by The Warden than by practically anyone else, and that Redcliffe wasn't _that_ far out of the way. The Warden and his party would pass right by the village on their way south to the wilds. Eventually, The Warden relented and agreed to see the arl on the king's behalf.

Afterward, The Warden left the courtyard, on his way to the atrium where he knew he would find the witch. Every morning she made it a habit to spend time among the exotic flowers and trees that grew there. And, as predicted, she was there bending to smell the sweet fragrance of a rare lily while The Warden approached her from behind.

Morrigan heard his entrance behind her and asked, "I suppose you'll be going into the wilds after the relic?"

"The idea had crossed my mind, yes." he answered.

Morrigan turned around and faced her warden, "You may dismiss any silly notions you might have about leaving me behind." she warned with a glare that said _I just got you back. I do not intend on losing you again_.

"I wasn't going to ask you to stay. No one else alive knows the wilds as well as you do. I'll need your help to have any chance of finding the ruins that Denolian spoke of."

"But you do not want me to go, do you?" she asked, seeing right through him as always.

"I hate being away from you, so yes, in that aspect, of course I want you to go..." he explained.

"However, you fear you will be unable to protect me and I may become injured." she finished for him.

"Or worse." he added.

"I never asked for you to be my guardian." Morrigan quipped, "I am quite capable of fending for myself. You have seen this yourself, and yet you still refuse to believe I am anything but some fragile flower."

"So...you never worry about me like that?"

"Twas not I who was nearly crushed to death by a dragon."

"True." he agreed, "Still, you are the mother of my child and my wife. I can't help it." he said with a shrug, "And for the record, you _did_ ask me to protect you."

"I did no such thing. You starting claiming to be my defender shortly after you had slain Flemeth...the first time."

"And who was it that asked me to kill Flemeth so she could be free?" he retorted with a grin that said _check mate_.

Morrigan let out a long sigh, "Twas I." she admitted, begrudgingly.

The Warden's victory was short lived, however, as there was another matter he needed to address. "There's something else about our journey I have to tell you." he said.

"That being what?"

"We'll be making a quick stop to visit Arl Eamon so I can personally ask him for assistance. Alistair requested I do it."

"Eamon, you say?" the witch said as her ears perked up, "Eamon resides in Redcliffe."

"That he does."

"We were to...what did you call it...?" Morrigan asked as she searched for the word.

"Honeymoon." he answered.

"Yes...our...honeymoon...was to be in Redcliffe." she said before her faced turn somber, "You needn't worry. I've no expectations of seeking my family while we are there. The urgency of our task does not allow for the opportunity."

"Morrigan...you know I wish there was time." he muttered softly while he slid his strong arms around her and pressed her body closer to his.

"Dwemer...my love...your concern need not be with me. You can ill afford such a distraction. Focus your attention where 'tis needed most."

"I'm trying, but you make it so damn hard."

The witch giggled in response and lightly caressed his cheek with her hand, "Silly man." she said.

It wasn't long before The Warden had his party assembled and were leaving the castle beneath the heat of the afternoon sun. Three riders on horseback, one with a small sparrow on his shoulder, were accompanied by a mabari warhound as their steeds trotted out through the gates of the castle and they headed south following the main road. The trip to Redcliffe wasn't necessarily a long one, but it would still be at least a two day ride; more if the weather didn't hold. Along the way The Warden told his companions the story about the so-called Eye of the Maker that Denolian had regaled upon him while he was at the temple. After hearing about what was said, all in the party agreed that the priest had intended for The Warden to retrieve the item all along. They reasoned that Denolian would attempt to steal the Eye at the earliest chance by guile or by force. It was up to them to make sure that didn't happen. To that end, The Warden and the witch hatched a plan that would make it very difficult for Denolian to get his hands on the Eye, indeed.

* * *

Near the village of Highever, to the south in the wilderness, an encampment could be found. The well trained eye could tell the camp was used by about ten or so men, a few of which could be seen busying themselves with various tasks about the camp. It was clear these men traveled light and moved fast. Only the barest of essentials had been brought and several tiny white tents were scattered about the forest floor. The grunts and whinnies of horses could be heard from the beasts who were tethered to nearby trees.

The Black Warden knelt beside the fire and warmed his hands against the flames. Only the reflection of the firelight in his eyes gave any indication of his face that was kept deep beneath the dark cowl. The sound of a distant gallop filled his ears. Louder and louder the sound got until the rider could be seen just beyond the tree line as he approached the camp. The Black Warden stood up and turned to receive the incoming rider.

"My lord, I bring news!" the man on horseback shouted upon riding into the camp. "Our informant tells me The Warden has left the castle. He and two others took the main road south."

"Was the maleficar among them?" the dark man asked.

"I don't know. Our source said all she saw was The Warden joined by the bard, Leliana, and a dalish elf."

"She has to be with them. That twit just didn't see her because she was in another form."

"She told me there was a mabari as well."

"That would be The Warden's personal mongrel. No...the witch will be in a different form. Perhaps one of the steeds. Make sure, however, before you proceed further. I will not tolerate mistakes. Once you are sure the maleficar is gone, you know what to do."

"Yes, my lord!" the man exclaimed as he kicked his spurs into his horse and sped out of the camp.

Another of the men approached the robed man and said, "I don't mean to question, Warden, but the false hero and his witch bride would be a handful with twice this many men. Why did you not take as big a force as Lord Denolian suggested?"

"It would be hard not to attract attention to ourselves with that many soldiers. What's required here is subtlety, not brashness."

"That may be so, but how do you plan to get the amulet from The Warden with so few?"

"I do plan on increasing our group's number by one."

"Just one, sir?" the man asked, perplexed.

"With the right person, I can convince him to give me the Eye without ever unsheathing his blade."

* * *

Later that night, in the castle study, The king, teyrn, and captain Dyana had all gathered to discuss the logistics of moving an army across the sea and landing at a remote island. It was a tall task under any circumstance, but due to the unsure nature of Denolian's current status, speed was of the essence, as they only had little more than a week with which to work a miracle. First thing on the list was to assemble the army, something that was going to be far easier said than done.

Already word had been sent to the banns along the northern bannorn in the hope of gathering as many men as quickly as possible. But it would take days before any reply arrived. That and most of the banns were relatively minor lords and could offer but a few soldiers. Even King Alistair would need at least a week for the bulk of his men to arrive from Denerim and Amaranthine. Fortunately, Teyrn Fergus would be able to call his militia and have it ready within a day or two. But that was barely three thousand men; woefully short of the force that was required.

"I best tend to my nephew. Morrigan will have my hide if she finds out I let him stay up this late." Fergus said as he backed away from the desk covered with maps and other papers and yawned as he stretched his aching muscles.

"We'll finish up here. You go get some rest." Alistair said.

"Are you sure you're alright with that? There's still much work to be done."

"We'll be fine. Besides, if Morrigan found out I kept you from Seth, she'd mount my head on a lance."

"True, enough." The teyrn said as he excused himself from the study and headed down the stone corridor towards the nanny's quarters.

Upon arriving at the desired door, Fergus raised his hand and knocked loudly. Oddly, there was no response. Again the teyrn knocked, louder this time just in case the old girl had fallen asleep. Still there was no reply.

He grabbed the handle and slowly opened the door, saying, "Hello? I've come for my nephew." But his only greeting was a blackened room, the glow from the torches in the corridor providing the only available light.

Quickly, Fergus searched the room and found it was completely empty. There was no trace of the nanny or Seth. A wave of panic came over the teyrn and he rushed out the door and located the closest castle guard.

"Have you seen the nanny this evening?" The teyrn asked.

"Not in hours, my lord. The last I saw, she was heading somewhere in an awful hurry carrying a bundle of something."

"A bundle?' Fergus asked when the realization dawned on him. "By the Maker!" he exclaimed, "Alert all the guards. Find the nanny and my nephew and bring them to me at once. Is that understood? Turn this place upside down if you have to. I want them found!"

"Yes, my lord."

And, as ordered, the guard collected his comrades and they began to search the castle from top to bottom, shining torches into every dark hole and moving any large object that may provide a hiding spot. But as the night went on and after hours of looking, neither the nanny or Seth could be found.

At last, the teyrn had to face what he least wanted to admit, "He's been taken!"


	16. Chapter 16

**Part XVI**

In the hilly region on the southwest coast of Lake Calenhad lay the quaint village of Redcliffe. Nestled in a small gully between the many hills, Redcliffe was a fishing village and much of the surrounding scenery paid testament to that fact. Along the shoreline many small boats were moored to wooden piers, their small crews scurrying about the docks, toiling to repair nets, unload the day's catch, patch leaks, or tend to various other tasks. It was the perfect image of a tranquil and peaceful place, belying the fact that just two years previous, a horrible and nightmarish plague of undead threatened to devour the village and everyone in it. Every living member of the village owed their life to The Warden and what he and his companions did to drive the darkness away.

Overlooking the village was stately Redcliffe Castle, home to Eamon Guerrin, Arl of Redcliffe. It was within the castle's thick walls that The Warden, Morrigan, Alistair, and Leliana fought their way to the source of the evil that blanketed the village; finding Arl Eamon in a comatose state, near death, and the castle under the control of a demon who had possessed the arl's young son, Connor. The arl was forever indebted to The Warden and his party for saving the village and finding the cure that restored the arl to health. Eamon was especially grateful to the witch for saving his son from the demon's grip within the Fade.

As The Warden and his comrades rode down the winding trail from the hills and into the village it was quickly apparent that the villagers had not forgotten what he did for them. Almost instantly, the riders were spotted and shouts rang out across the village. "The Warden has returned! The Warden has returned!" they cried, while all the citizenry rushed to the center of town to greet him. Soon the place was filled with eager villagers who shouted words of praise and gratitude. Even the old smith, Owen, was there with his daughter.

"Murdock. It's good to see you again." The Warden said as he stretched out his hand to the grizzled looking middle-aged man who approached him.

"It's been a long time, Warden." Murdock returned, clasping The Warden's hand, "What brings you to our humble village?"

"I need to see Arl Eamon."

"Arl Eamon, you say?" Murdock asked, his weathered face wrinkling up in thought.

"Yes. Why, is something wrong?"

"It's probably nothing, but no one's seen the arl in public in over a week."

"You mean he's gone?"

"Nobody knows for sure. If he's still in the castle, he hasn't been seen in quite some time."

"Thanks, Murdock." The Warden replied with a nod.

"Always a pleasure."

The Warden's group traveled out of the village and up the pass to the castle gates. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as the riders entered the castle courtyard and dismounted their steeds. Morrigan, who had still been in bird form, leaped from her perch atop The Warden's shoulder and dropped to the ground. In a bright flash of light, the witch resumed her human form. Together, they all climbed the steps to the castle and entered through the large wooden doors.

To The Warden's surprise, it was Ban Teagan who greeted them in the large main hall. "Ah. Welcome, Warden." he said, "To what do we owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"

"I've come to see the arl. Where is he?"

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but my brother isn't here at the moment. He's gone to visit his son at Circle Tower and won't be back for another two days or so."

"Twas my understanding mages were not permitted such visits." Morrigan quipped.

"That's changed. Mages are now allowed to be visited by friends and loved ones at Circle Tower several times a year. Due largely to your actions, I understand."

"Still, 'tis but a small reprieve from their isolation. I'll not be credited for merely allowing the prisoners to, at last, see their own shackles."

"From what I've been hearing the mages say about you, I don't think you have much choice in the matter." Teagan retorted while a grin grew on his face.

"Bah! Let the fools talk if they wish. It will change little of my view of _them._"

"I hate to break up this charming discussion, but I'm afraid you're not the only one with bad news, my friend." The Warden said to the ban, "Trouble is brewing off the northern coast and soon it'll threaten all of Ferelden."

"Trouble? What sort of trouble?" Teagan asked in a concerned tone.

The Warden proceeded to explain to Teagan the reason for his visit and the urgency of the situation. The Order of Bohlen, as it turned out, was not unfamiliar to the ban. He had been aware of them for some time and there was even a small temple in Redcliffe, although, he seemed completely surprised that such a small group could be capable of the deeds The Warden described.

That, in essence, was the brilliance of Denolian's plan, The Warden figured. Those in the Order had known not to draw a great deal of attention to themselves. They moved in the shadows, while nobody was looking. And then, when it was already far too late, they lunged for the kill. The Order was smart to give the appearance of being nothing more than a minor religion with but a few zealous priests scattered here and there. In truth, however, every major city in Ferelden had at least one temple and it was likely to assume that there were many more hidden amidst the hundreds of tiny villages and shires that dotted the land. The Order's followers could easily number in the tens of thousands or more; a far bigger number than The Warden or any of the others had considered before.

Without hesitation, Ban Teagan offered the services of his loyal men to the cause. He agreed to gather his knights and ride to Highever in aid of King Alistair and Teyrn Fergus immediately. Teagan possessed a sizable force of his own and his knights were veterans of many conflicts. Their presence would be a great help in the coming battle. It was welcome news for The Warden, who hadn't counted on seeing the ban. If the arl returned soon, as promised, there might be a chance to gather a big enough army to face down Denolian, after all.

* * *

"Your majesty, we've received replies from two more lords in the northern Bannorn. Bans Delian Winthrod and Argust Thailenari have pledged support. Their soldiers should be arriving within the next day or so." Captain Dyana reported to the king as he and Teyrn Fergus drew up potential battle plans in the study of Castle Cousland.

"Thank you, captain. That will be all." Alistair replied, trying hard to hide the sheepish grin on his face that seemed to force its way out every time he talked to Dyana. "That gives us five lords so far. " he said as he turned his attention to the teyrn, "You've got your soldiers readied and most of my forces have already made there way here."

"Still, that only gives us an army of some ten thousand men. Even if Dwemer persuades Eamon to send his knights, there won't be nearly enough. I hope my brother knows what he's doing." Fergus replied, his voice full of doubt.

"Honestly, I think he makes it up as he goes along." Alistair noted.

"It wouldn't surprise me in the least." the teyrn agreed.

Outside the castle, hundreds of tents had once again been set up, covering the surrounding countryside. But this time, the tents were filled with soldiers, replacing the merry people who had celebrated a wedding not even two weeks previous. As the day pressed on, more soldiers and knights arrived, accompanied by the lords they served. Before long, thousands of men were camped along the hillside beneath the castle walls.

The army being assembled did not go unnoticed by the good people in the nearby village of Highever. For days, many of them stood and watched from the road overlooking the normally lush meadows that rolled between the castle and the village. Meadows which were now covered by thousands of tents and men clad in leather and steel. The peaceful bird songs had been replaced with the sounds of marching boots and loudly shouted orders. Instead of the graceful gate of deer prancing through the meadow, there were horses stomping their shod hooves about, digging up the ground and making many sloppy puddles in the process.

Of course, none of the villagers had a clue what was going on. All they could do was speculate about what they were seeing. Some said the king had gotten word that Orlias had planned a sneak attack on Highever. Then there were those who tried to reassure themselves that these were only training exercises, as the king and teyrn had both said. Others, however, were nearly causing a panic by insinuating that the darkspawn had returned and threatened to bring about another blight.

None of them could have known what was coming, however, as just off the coast, two hundred massive ships sailed toward Ferelden's shores having already picked up their cargo of men. They had been moored for some time off the southern tip of the Free Marches, silently awaiting their mission to ferry Denolian's army across the sea. That mission had come sooner than expected, but the vessels stood ready to serve, as it was something Lord Denolian had already anticipated. And now that nearly all the major lords in Ferelden were gathered at one place and so heavily outnumbered, it proved to be too tempting a target for the mad priest and he intended to strike with his entire army and send Ferelden reeling in chaos. After which, the rest of the country would be helpless against him.

* * *

There was nothing The Warden could do but wait for Arl Eamon to return. Even though The Warden was needed elsewhere, Eamon was too powerful an ally and the need for his help was too great for The Warden to pursue the Eye of Arvisarok until he had spoken with the arl. And waiting was one of the few things that The Warden was horrible at. It made him especially tense and sometimes it would even make his stomach ache. Luckily, Morrigan had come up with the perfect distraction to keep his mind occupied while they waited for Eamon to get back.

"It would seem as though we've been afforded the chance to pursue other matters." she said to him, knowing he would understand what she meant.

"We do seem to have some time on our hands at the moment. I take it you want to head down to the village?" he asked, already knowing her answer.

"'Tis odd to think that somewhere amongst the faces that greeted our arrival were people who could be members of my own family. Admittedly, I am eager to find them."

"Do you have any ideas where you want to start looking?"

"As you have shown in the past, the best place to start any search is the local tavern. Drunken villagers can quite often be rather accommodating."

"The tavern it is, then."

The couple, joined by the mabari, left the castle and headed down the trail to the tavern, which sat atop one of the small hills on the edge of the village. "I hope for your sake that _she_ is not here." Morrigan said sternly as The Warden lifted the wooden handle on the door and swung it open.

The Warden raised an eyebrow at his witch, "Who?" he asked.

"You know exactly of whom I speak. Your fair serving wench."

"Bella? Nah, she won't be here." he replied, brushing the topic aside, "She left to work for Ban Teagan, remember?"

"So much the better." the witch quipped.

"Although I never did get that kiss she promised me..."

"If that is what you wish, I am sure I can facilitate a reasonable replacement for you. We did pass by the swine pens, did we not?" Morrigan offered, her words dripping with venom.

"Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are when you're jealous?"

"My love, you've not begun to see true jealousy. After all, your privates are still in tact are they not?"

An uneasy twinge emanated from his loins, and he found the need to adjust himself, as much for comfort as for reassurance. "That would be just as bad for you, too." he said when the shiver finally finished making its way up his spine.

"Are you willing to wager on that?" she replied with a sly grin, "I coped for years in the wilds without need of a man. I can do so again, if I must. Were I you, I would keep my gaze where it belonged and nowhere else."

"Remind me again just exactly why I'm the luckiest man alive?"

"Because you have _me."_

"Ah, that's right." he said sarcastically, as if in deep reflection.

"Ass." the witch replied, giggling a bit.

Fortunately or not, Bella wasn't inside the tavern. The establishment's owner, Loyd, was at his usual spot behind the bar, serving drinks to his guests and lending an ear to those who were in the mood to talk about their troubles. The place was quite a bit busier than the last time The Warden and Morrigan were there. Although, having a town overrun by an undead horde wasn't exactly good for business.

Morrigan scanned the tavern's occupants with a critical eye. Surely none of these uncouth ruffians could be of any relation to her. Their hair was tattered and dirty and their clothes were filthy. The sickening stench of soured ale seemed to cling to each of them. The thought of being kin to any of these people was almost enough to make the witch want to turn around and walk out, forgetting the matter entirely. Instead, however, she followed her warden as he stepped up to the bar to talk to Loyd.

The Warden leaned against the wooden edge and thumped his fist against the counter, "What's a guy have to do to get a drink around here?" he said to the burly man standing behind the bar who was too busy with his work to notice The Warden and Morrigan come in.

"What're you, some kind of joker...?" Loyd shot back as he spun around, "Warden!" he exclaimed, his tone instantly changing, "I heard you were back in town. My, aren't you a sight. What can I get for you?"

"A dark ale and some information." The Warden answered. Morrigan said nothing as she stood close to The Warden's side, allowing him to do all the talking this time.

"Aye, the ale I've got, information, though, I might not have. Not much has really happened since...since...well, since you saved the village." Loyd replied, while he grabbed what he considered to be a suitably clean glass and filled it with a dark, foaming ale. "It's been right quiet around here, for sure." he finished as he set the full glass on the counter, some of the foam spilling over the side.

The Warden lifted the glass to his mouth and took a big swallow, "Ah...good stuff." he said as he placed the glass back on the bar, "I'm looking for someone who might live in Redcliffe."

"I know everyone in Redcliffe. I've lived here my whole life. Who are you looking for?"

"She's the sister of Corine Hamric, from Highever."

"Hamric...Hamric..." Loyd muttered while he thought, "I don't know that name, but a long time ago I used to know this girl, Corine Sancroft. I grew up with her. I had such a crush...but she was quite a bit older than I was. She got married and moved off somewhere, I never saw her again after that. It could be the same person. She did have a younger sister named, Aniel. Aniel Boothe. She still lives in the village, in one of the houses along the lake shore. She's married to a local fisherman who owns his own boat, too."

Morrigan leaned closer to The Warden, placing her mouth near his ear she whispered forcefully, "Hurry and finish your drink!"

"A bit impatient, are we?" he asked in a facetious tone.

The witch's reply was a steely glare that said _I am in no mood for your attempts at humor_.

"Thanks for the drink, Loyd. How much do I owe you?"

"Are you kidding? For you, it's always on the house."

"Hey!" a shout came from down the bar, "How come I never get free drinks?"

"Oh, Shut up, you old codger!" Loyd yelled back, "These are very special guests, so show some respect."

"What about me? I'm your best customer!" the old man cried.

"No you're not! You still owe me for last months tab!"

Unnoticed in the bickering, The Warden and Morrigan had quietly slipped out. They strolled together down the hillside path with Leo beside them sniffing the ground feverishly as they went past the local chantry and beneath the shadow of the towering windmill at the center of the village. Their boots clomped against the wooden ramp that led up to the boardwalk and around the tightly packed buildings that were butted against the shore. The pair had to stop and ask one of the locals to get specific directions to Aniel's house. And as usual, the villager was more than willing to help The Warden and his witch by showing them the exact location of the house. Soon, they stood before the very door they were seeking.

The Warden raised his fist to knock. "Wait..." Morrigan said, staying his hand.

"What is it?"

"I need a few moments before you go banging on the door."

"It'll be alright. They're just people, nothing to be afraid of."

"Me afraid? Ha! I simply desire a moment to straighten my attire. I'll not be seen looking like some haggard beggar." the witch retorted as she began to hastily make minor adjustments in her clothing. "You may proceed when you are ready."

"Uh-huh..." he said, trying not to smile.

Again, The Warden raised his hand to knock, and this time the witch did not object. _Thump thump thump _his fist said as it pounded against the heavy door. Morrigan anxiously twiddled her thumbs and did her best to try not to look nervous while they waited for a response. Soon the sound of a latch being undone could be heard on the other side of the door. With a moan, the door creaked open to reveal a young boy of about twelve years of age. His hair was black as night and his eyes wear the clearest ice-blue.

"Yes?" he inquired.

"I'm sorry to bother you," The Warden said politely, "but we're looking for a woman named Aniel Boothe, she had a sister named Corine who lived in Highever. Does she live here?"

Confusion came across the boy's face. He turned and hollered "Mama! I think there's someone to see you!"

Shortly, a woman appeared with long, dark blond hair that was braided and rolled into two buns in the back of her head. Streaks of gray ran through her hair while crows feet and fine wrinkles were etched into her face. Still, though, she had the same eyes as the boy and despite her obvious age, she was still a very beautiful woman who moved with a certain elegance.

"What's all this noise about?" the woman asked the boy.

"These people say they're looking for you. But you never had a sister, did you?"

"That will be all, Stephan. Go back inside." Aniel said while she brushed the boy back through the doorway and closed the door behind her. "Warden...How do you know me? And how do you know about my sister?"

"Are you the sister of Corine Hamric?" Morrigan asked.

"Yes. She was my sister, but she died over thirty years ago. How could you possibly know about her?" Aniel asked, her face distorted in confusion.

"They had a child. A girl. Do you remember her?"

"I was only sixteen when she died, but I remember. My sister and her husband were brutally killed, and their child, my niece, was never seen again. What is all this about?"

"Elisha and Corine Hamric were my parents. Twas I who was taken from them by Flemeth to be raised by her in the wilds."

"That can't possibly be so. Their daughter's eyes were deep blue, like the rest of our family."

"My eyes were the result of Flemeth's magic. From what I've been told, as an infant they were quite blue indeed."

"It's hard to explain everything, but trust me, Aniel, she's you're niece." The Warden confirmed.

"This is so sudden...so unexpected. I...I don't know what to say."

Morrigan turned to The Warden, saying, "We shouldn't have come. It would have been best for these people to leave the past were it lay."

"Nonsense!" Aniel exclaimed when the realization finally sunk in, "Corine's baby girl has come back at last. After all these years! It's a pity your mother didn't live to see this day. She was quite a remarkable woman. And just look at you! All grown up and married to The Grey Warden, himself and living in a castle. Corine would be so proud!"

"I'm sure you two have a great deal to talk about." The Warden said.

"Maker, where are my manners? Come in! Come in!"

* * *

Somewhere outside Redcliffe, the Black Warden and his men camped among the rolling hills. The unending wail of a child crying echoed from within the camp and reverberated along the hillside. Seth hadn't stopped screaming since he was taken from his place in the castle by his nanny. The Order had blackmailed her into delivering the child to them. It seems the nanny's family lived on property in Highever that was recently purchased by the Order. If she hadn't cooperated with them, they would have cast her family out and taken everything. But the entire effort was threatened to be wasted by the child's incessant crying.

"My lord, I need to speak with you." one of the men said as he stood outside the Black Warden's tent.

"What is it? It had better be important!" came an angry voice from inside the tent.

"The child won't stop screaming, my lord. We're in danger of being exposed if he doesn't stop soon."

"You fools can't even handle a small child? Bring the boy to me."

"Yes, my lord!" the soldier said and he turned to fetch the child.

After the man gathered up Seth, he returned to the Black Warden's tent. "I've brought him, my lord." he said while Seth looked around him with scared eyes, terrified of his surroundings.

"What are you waiting for? Show the boy in." the dark man ordered.

The soldier pulled back the flap on the tent and sent the child within, saying "In you go. Now you'll learn how to keep that mouth of yours shut." and closing back the flap after Seth was inside.

Seth stood on his shaky toddler feet and looked around the small tent. He saw the man in a hooded black robe sitting in a chair near the back. The man stretched out his arm to the boy and said, "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. You're safe now."

The Black Warden reached up and pulled back his dark hood, revealing to the boy his identity. Instantly Seth grew quiet. All the fear left the child's eyes when he saw the face of the man in front of him. It was a face he recognized.

"Da!" the boy yelled as he ran up and squeezed the Black Warden's leg.


	17. Chapter 17

**Part XVII**

The battle raged for hours, but the outcome was never really in doubt. Scores of armor-clad men had been dropped onto the shore by two hundred transport vessels and quickly headed inland, streaming into the village of Highever. Alistair and Fergus did the best they could to fend off the attack, but they were taken surprise and woefully out manned. Alistair rallied his men as best he could, attempting to form them into ranks, but the absolute chaos of the battle made the task next to impossible. Denolian's army had little trouble in breaking through the king's lines. The king and teyrn knew there was but one option: retreat. They had to save as many of their men as they could.

Denolian intended to slaughter them all and had his general, Octaes Regorda, take half of the army around on a flanking maneuver in order to cut off the retreat of the king's men. Luckily, Ban Teagan and his knights arrived on the battlefield in time to slow Regorda's advance, giving the king and teyrn's men enough to time withdraw. But Alistair was not among them. Somewhere in the confusion, Fergus and the king were separated and Alistair's whereabouts were unknown.

Horrified villagers looked on as Deolian's men poured into Castle Cousland, easily dispatching the few guards that remained. Soldiers on horseback rode into town and gathered up the villagers in the town center, and while the woman screamed and the children cried, husbands and fathers were put to the sword, one after the other, until those left alive were in no mood to make any objections.

Countless bodies covered the blood-soaked fields between the castle and the village. Ban Thalenari and all of his men were among them. Their encampment was the first to be overrun by the endless waves of Denolian's soldiers.

"Lord Denolian..." General Regorda called out as he approached the priest, "The castle and village are ours and the king's forces are on the run. You've won a great victory, my lord."

"Very good, general." the mad priest said as he surveyed his conquest from the top of castle's northwest tower, "It's all going exactly as I planned."

"What shall we do with all the prisoners?"

"There _aren't_ any prisoners, general."

"Understood, my lord." the general acknowledged as he made a gesture to one of his lieutenants who quickly darted off, "And what about the village?"

"A message needs to be sent." Denolian issued calmly, "Burn it to the ground."

"And the villagers? What about them?"

"Let them flee. Let them spread the word of what they witnessed here to the rest of Ferelden. Many lords lie dead before our feet and King Alistair's army is smashed. We will hunt them down to the last man. This country will soon crumble and fall to pieces. And then, when I have the amulet, I shall rebuild it in my image and all will bow before my everlasting glory."

The night sky glowed brightly from the many burning buildings while thousands of tiny red embers floated upwards and thick black smoke billowed from nearly everywhere. The only structure spared was the Order's small temple in the village, the rest were engulfed in roaring flames. By dawn, all that remained of the village of Highever was charred, smoking ashes and memories.

* * *

Aniel was still somewhat in shock at the prospect of Morrigan being her long lost niece. She confessed that she thought about her sister nearly everyday, and even though she never spoke about the subject, not even with her own husband, she had long ago lost any hope of ever finding Corine's daughter. What was even more shocking was how much she knew about Morrigan. Aniel was very familiar with the witch's exploits and her dealings with the Chantry that led to many changes in how mages were treated. As it turned out, the topic was very personal to Aniel.

"After you were granted the Apostatic Exculpation, things started to change over at Circle Tower. A few new schools of magic were opened up and they started allowing the mages to have visits from family." Aniel explained, almost as if she'd been involved in the matter.

"You've clearly heard a great deal. 'Tis curious why someone with no magic talent would pay so close attention to what happens within the Circle of Magi." Morrigan replied.

"I have good reason to. My daughter is there."

"She is a mage, then?"

"Yes. She just passed her harrowing not too long ago. Her name is Nirfil."

"Are you kidding me?" The Warden asked when he heard the name, "Nirfil is your daughter?"

"You know her, Warden?"

"I know her quite well."

"Indeed, he does." Morrigan added while she glanced over at him with a look that said, _do not say a word, not a single word_, "I've also met her."

"Oh, she's a smart girl with a level head. But she tends to be a bit headstrong, sometimes."

"It must run in the family." The Warden joked, grinning at his witch.

Instantly Morrigan shot back another cold glare that said, _remarks such as that shall have you sleeping with the dog!_

"Enough of my babbling on and on. You probably want to know about your parents, don't you?" Aniel asked.

"Twas not until recently that I was even aware I had any family. I find myself curious to know what they were like."

"Well, your father, Elisha, was a handsome man. He was from a well-to-do merchant family in Denerim. When his father passed away, Elisha inherited a good bit of coin. I can still remember that stunning smile of his, even after all these years. It's how he caught the eye of your mother."

"My mother...?" the witch muttered, saying the words for the first time aloud and not meaning Flemeth.

"Yes...Corine was the perfect big sister. She was as intelligent as she was beautiful. She would take me down to the docks on some evenings to watch the boats coming in. We would sit there, against the wooden pilings, and talk for hours about what we intended to do when we grew up. More than once, our mother...your grandmother...had to come fetch us from the wharf and call us to supper, we'd been there so long."

Morrigan sat there on the soft sofa, absorbing everything Aniel said. "Your mother, does she still live?" the witch asked.

"Sadly, no. She passed on more than ten years ago."

"A pity. You have my condolences."

"Thank you. She went on to be with my father. He died when I was very young."

Morrigan and Aniel sat there in the den for long hours talking. They had a lifetime's worth of catching up to do. The Warden just stood by and watched silently as his witch was introduced to her parents and other family members through Aniel's words. He was fascinated by how much his witch had changed in such a short amount of time. Sure, she was still the barbed tongue beauty she had always been, but now she was more willing to lower her emotional walls and accept things she would have scoffed at and mocked in the past, no matter how she really felt about them. True, Morrigan would rarely, if ever, show this different side of herself to anyone else but The Warden, but it was there nonetheless, and she was beginning to let it come out more and more.

Aniel was at a complete loss for words when she heard of the witch's life in the wilds. Never before had she heard of anyone being treated in the manner in which Flemeth treated Morrigan. To say the woman was shocked hardly described it. She was horrified to hear the things Flemeth had done. The Warden, having heard these same stories before, knew the witch wasn't even telling everything. Morrigan could tell tales of Flemeth's deeds that would have made the poor woman faint.

"You poor child!" Aniel exclaimed, sympathetically.

"I do not desire your pity. Were it not for Flemeth, I would not be the woman you see before you today. She may have done things that you do not approve of, but she taught me to be strong and take care of myself."

"And besides, it was Flemeth who brought us together." The Warden added. "As much as I hated what she did, I can't ignore that fact."

"She brought you two together?" Aniel asked, not fully understanding.

"Twas she that sent me with The Warden to aid him in his fight against the darkspawn." Morrigan explained, "'Tis true, she was motivated by her own lust for power. However, if not for my moth..." the witch stopped, catching herself, "If not for Flemeth, what transpired between us would never have happened."

"And Ferelden would be overrun with darkspawn right now." The Warden finished, "I would never have succeeded without Morrigan's help."

"Well, that might be so, but that was then. You're back with your family now. That's all that matters." Aniel said, "And speaking of family, where's that son of yours that all of Ferelden adores?"

"Seth is safe with his uncle at Castle Cousland."

"Castle Cousland..." Aniel said while she thought, "I can't even imagine what that must be like. You've obviously done quite well for yourself, being married to a Cousland, after all. And The Grey Warden at that. I'm sure your son could do far worse than having a teyrn for an uncle."

"'Tis quite a...unique...experience."

"Well, after all you've been through, you deserve a little peace and happiness. Both of you."

* * *

The vision was starting to come back to Alistair as he lay on the blood-soaked ground, lying alongside the bodies of several men. He had been knocked unconscious during the battle by a sudden blow to the back of his head. Fortunately, he must have been mistaken for just another body and ignored by the attackers. The large knot on the back of his skull still throbbed with waves of pain. He slowly rose to his feet, barely having enough strength to lift himself from the dirt. Alistair strained to focus his eyes on the world around him, and as the haze faded, the king saw the nightmare surrounding him.

The first thing the king could make out were the plumes of black smoke that filled the sky. He traced them with his eyes back to their source. His gut twisted in knots when he saw the flames that consumed Highever lighting up the night. He heard the screams of the women and children as they were chased down by soldiers on horseback and cut down. Terrified villagers fled for their lives as they hastily scrambled out of the village in a mass exodus, most with just the clothes on their backs.

There were no signs of his army anywhere, if any of the men even survived. Hopefully Fergus was able to withdraw and was now on his way to Denerim, the seat of power for all Ferelden. That was sure to be Denolian's main target. Without Denerim, the priest's plans of conquest would go unfulfilled. It was also the largest and most heavily fortified city in the land. Laying siege to the city wasn't possible, since Denerim was a coastal city and the Order had no means to counter the king's naval fleet. Denolian would have to take it outright, by force.

Even with his full army, the mad priest would have great difficulty in accomplishing his task, but the recent battle had taken its toll on his forces as well. The king and teyrn's men put up quite a fight, even though they had been hopelessly outnumbered, and many of the bodies that covered the once peaceful meadow bore the crest of the Order. Alistair was convinced Denolian still had another trick up his sleeve; a dark surprise he'd been saving for a special occasion.

With The Warden gone on his quest for the amulet, it was up to Alistair to contact Vigil's Keep and alert the Grey Wardens. With their help, the king could make a stand at Denerim and keep the Order from sacking the city. Unfortunately, though, Alistair would never get the chance to carry out his plan.

"You there!" a man called out from behind, "Get your hands where I can see 'em!"

Alistair turned quickly to see three armored and well-armed men heading right for him. He did his best to flee, but his feet weren't solidly under him yet and he stumbled and fell after only a few steps. Before he was able to get up, three glistening blades had been drawn and were now merely inches from his throat.

"What an unexpected surprise, _your majesty_." one of the soldiers said with a wicked grin.

Unseen by either the king or the soldiers, a dark figure observed them from the safety of the shadows. The figure watched as Denolian's men grabbed Alistair and hoisted him from the ground. With their gleaming blades, they ushered the king off towards the captured castle as their prize. The shadow, having seen enough, turned and raced off into the night.

* * *

Most of the remnants of the king's army had gathered to the southeast of Highever, near the main road to Denerim. Fergus was doing the best he could to organize the disheartened men and boost their spirits at the same time. But it was a hard task, as the teyrn, himself, was dealing with the tragedies of his nephew's abduction and the brutal defeat of his forces at the hands of the mad priest. He kept to his duties with a stone face, however, not letting those in his charge see the turmoil he hid within. Fergus was a source of strength and poise for the soldiers when they needed it most.

All of them had seen the plumes of thick smoke in the sky and knew in their guts Denolian had turned his men loose on the unprotected village. Nearly all of the teyrn's men had family in Highever. Family whose fates were maddeningly uncertain and unknown. Some of the men missing from the soldier's ranks had simply quit the field and hurried off to their loved ones. Those who remained now had no place to go back to, their homes torched and burned. To make things even worse, Alistair was missing. Whether he was captured or fell in battle, nobody knew for sure. The duty to lead the army to Denerim and defend the city now fell on Fergus' shoulders. In the king's absence, he was the highest ranking lord in Ferelden and only he could serve as regent to the throne. But that placed a large target on the teyrn's back as well.

Fergus rallied his broken troops as best he could and marched them eastward, towards Denerim. It would take at least two days to reach the capital city. Fergus prayed it was enough time to come up with the necessary miracle.

"My lord..." Captain Dyana said riding up to the teyrn, "By my estimate we've lost nearly half our men. Just over five thousand remain."

"Damn..." Fergus muttered, "That'll never be enough men if Denolian catches up to us. We need to move faster."

Ban Teagan, who rode next to Fergus, said, "We need to get a message to my brother and The Warden and have them hurry to Denerim and join us. Eamon's men are needed now more than ever, and if there's anyone who can turn things around, it's The Grey Warden."

"Agreed." the teyrn replied, "But we don't know if Dwemer is even in Redcliffe anymore. If he is, he won't be there much longer."

"I'll dispatch a courier right away, my lord." Dyana responded, kicking her heels into her steed and racing off to one of her lieutenants to issue the command.

"Still no word of the king?" Tegean asked.

"I'm afraid not. I hope he's alright wherever he is."

"I've known Alistair since he was a boy. If it's one thing he's a master of, it's getting out of trouble. He'll be fine. We can only trust the Maker to watch over him."

* * *

Morrigan talked and chatted nearly the entire way back to Redcliffe Castle. The Warden hadn't seen her in this good of a mood in quite a while. Not since they were alone together in the Bracilian Forest after Seth was born. Back then, it was just the three of them with no concerns about the outside world at all. It was a simpler and happier time for both The Warden and his witch. And now, seeing her smile brought back fond memories of those times.

"I can hardly believe my search has ended with such success." Morrigan said as the couple joined by Leo, slowly traced the path back to the castle, "In truth, I had no hopes of ever finding answers about my past or my true family. Twas because of your persistence in the matter, and your constantly prodding me to seek out my family, that I finally know who I am and where I come from. There are no means by which I can thank you. Once again, I am deeply indebted to you. As silly as it sounds, I now feel as though I have a connection to this world and 'tis because of this...what?" the witch asked, noticing the large grin on her warden's face.

"Oh, nothing. I just enjoy seeing you smile." he replied.

Suddenly embarrassed, the witch's cheeks became flushed, "I have been talking a great deal, haven't I?" she asked rhetorically.

"Not so much. I rather like it."

"Nonsense. I've been acting like a silly girl." she scolded herself.

"I think this one time that can be allowed."

"'Tis entirely _your_ fault. Were it not for your needless and constant concern for my joy, treating me as though I had none at all in my life, I would feel no need for such displays."

"And that right there is why I love you so much." he said, chuckling.

"Explain what you mean."

"Only you could get mad at someone for making you happy."

Morrigan giggled at herself, "I suppose that does seem a bit ludicrous." she said.

"You are a very complicated woman, you know that?" he said while he softly nuzzled against her neck.

"Mmm..." she purred, "Of course I am. How else would I keep you on your toes?"

"You certainly keep me guessing, that's for sure."

"And you possess the ability to turn me into some overly emotional creature without warning. I'd say that makes us even."

"So I guess that only leaves us with two questions."

"Those being?"

"Do you intend on bringing our son to meet his mother's family?" The Warden inquired.

"Certainly. As soon as we are able. What is your other question?"

"When do you plan on seeing Nirfil?"

The second question proved to be far harder to answer. A lump formed in Morrigan's gut while she tried to come up with a reasonable response. The witch held no love for the Circle of Magi or for any of its members. She was used to belittling Circle Tower and all who dwelt there. Now it was different. A member of her family was a Circle Mage. She had no clue how they would react to one another once Morrigan revealed what she learned. Would Nirfil even accept her? Would Morrigan be able to get past her distrust of the Circle and accept Nirfil? Even the old mage, Wynne, whom Morrigan learned to respect a great deal, was unable to change the witch's views about the Circle.

"I am...unsure." was the only answer the witch could give.

"There's no hurry. I'm sure you have plenty of things to sort out as it is." he reassured as best he could, "We'll go when you're ready."


	18. Chapter 18

**Part XVIII**

The next morning a messenger arrived at Redcliffe Castle. The poor man had been riding non-stop for an entire day just to make the trip, so urgent was his news. Upon arriving at the castle and dismounting, his horse immediately collapsed and died on the spot from exhaustion. Quickly, the guards ushered the man to the arl's private study, where The Warden and witch were gathered along with Leliana and Zevran. The message itself was only four words, but those words were enough to cut right through The Warden: Highever is no more.

The courier was refused both rest and refreshment by The Warden until he had told everything he knew. The look on The Warden's face grew more grim with each word the man spoke. He told The Warden of the Order's sudden attack and capture of Castle Cousland, as well as the razing of the village. The man explained that Teyrn Fergus and Ban Teagan aimed to make their stand at Denerim and had requested The Warden join them there.

"If Fergus and Teagan are leading the army, where's Alistair?" The Warden asked the tired and dirty man.

"Nobody knows, my lord. He's been missing since the battle." the man replied.

"Damn..." The Warden muttered beneath his breath.

"What of our son?" Morrigan asked.

"I can't say for sure, my lady, I'm just a lowly messenger. But from what I'm told, nearly everyone was able to make it out of the castle before it was overrun. If he was with the servants, he should be fine." the messenger answered, unaware that Seth had been abducted.

"Thank you. You may leave now." The Warden said.

"Yes, my lord." the man said with a bow, and then turned to exit the room.

After the guards had closed the door behind the departing courier, Morrigan looked on her warden with concern. "Dwemer..." she said to him softly.

"I need to be alone for a while." was his only reply.

"I...I am here, should you need me." she whispered back while giving his arm a gentle caress in parting as he walked away from her and out of the room.

He slowly and methodically climbed the stairs to the second floor, each step appearing more forced than the one before. When at last he arrived at his quarters, he quietly opened the door and went inside, locking the door behind him. The Warden's eyes stared around the room, watching the torchlight create dancing shadows along the walls. His gaze fell to the floor as his mind tried to come to grips with what the messenger told him. He stood there silently while the pain, anger, and seething hatred bubbled up inside him. His stomach became knotted and tense and every muscle in him was tightly clenched. The pressure rose within The Warden, until he nearly burst and could contain it no more.

"AAAAAHH!" he yelled out as loud as he could and flew into a rage, taking his anger out on anything within reach. Tables were smashed into bits. Chairs were splintered against the stone floor and against the hard walls. Even the bed he shared with Morrigan wasn't spared his wrath. Gasping and out of breath, The Warden collapsed to his knees, pounding his fists against the floor beside him until they freely bled.

"No...no...no" he mumbled aloud each time his fist pounded against the cold stone.

"Dwemer, please let me in." came Morrigan's muffled voice from behind the door. She had evidently heard the commotion, along with most of the castle.

He made no response. Instead choosing to kneel in his spot, staring at the floor and making no sound. Soon the witch's pleas were replaced by a faint clicking sound, and before The Warden could turn around to see, the door swung open and Morrigan stepped inside.

"You have my thanks, Leliana." Morrigan said with a slight nod to the bard.

Leliana gave a silent nod in return. Her large blue eyes looked upon her friend with great concern. The Warden had been her strength many times when she needed it. But now, he was the one who needed help. It was the first time she had ever seen him vulnerable. The bard's gaze quickly shot away when he noticed her stare. "I'll leave you two alone." she said as she politely excused herself.

A myriad of different things to say to him ran through the witch's mind. She could tell him he was acting foolishly and needed to deal with the situation as a man would, not like a sniveling child, or she could slap him across the face and tell him to get his act together, or, better still, tell him that he should be ashamed of himself for acting so childishly. But she said none of those things. Instead, as she approached her warden, of all the things she thought to say, only one thing would come out : "Are you alright?" Morrigan asked, while placing her hand against his shoulder.

"It's gone..." he muttered weakly, "It's all gone."

"I feel for your loss, my love. But Highever can be rebuilt; the castle retaken. All is not lost."

"You don't understand...all those people...dead. And it's _my fault_."

"Do not be absurd. How can you possibly be to blame?"

"I should have been there! I'm the _great_ Grey Warden, remember?" he shouted, "But I wasn't...Now Highver is gone and all those people are dead...it's my fault."

"You are but one man, flesh and bone. Even you could hardly be expected to defeat an entire army on your own." Morrigan said as she squatted down on the floor beside him, "You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, but you cannot save it. No man alone has that power."

"I have to try."

"Why is it so important to you? Why must you be so eager to throw away your life? What great sin have you committed that you must spend your entire life seeking penance?"

He said no words, but his cold hard stare right into Morrigan's soul told the witch all she needed. "'Tis because of _me_." she gasped, realizing at last.

"Morrigan...no...it's not you." he replied softly.

"You are a terrible liar. 'Tis quite plain to me now. Your guilt over having made me your bride causes you to partake in these reckless actions in an attempt to make restitution. Apparently, being wed to a maleficar disturbs you, after all."

"It's not like that. You don't understand..._you_ make me happy. I enjoy the love of a beautiful woman and I have a wonderful child all while there are other people who have so little. As a Grey Warden, it's my duty to look after those people. Not just protect them from darkspawn, but from anything that threatens them."

"However, in being with me, you feel as though you've neglected those duties."

"Yeah..."

"I've seen your dreams and know the torment you carry inside. At first, I thought twas but a random nightmare. But you've had those dreams often, have you not?"

"I have them...often. Yes."

"You needn't destroy yourself in order to prove your worth, my love. Where is it written that Grey Wardens may have no joy?"

"Marriage and family are highly...discouraged. Precisely because of the type of lives Grey Wardens tend to lead."

"Discouraged, yes, but not forbidden." Morrigan noted, "You have done truly incredible things, far more than most men can hope to achieve in a lifetime. Whatever crimes you feel you've committed have more than been repaid. The only person you've betrayed is yourself. You choose to steal your own happiness because you are ashamed of it."

"I wish it was that easy..." He said as his hollow eyes stared into the witch's.

"'It can be no easier. If anyone deserves to be happy...'tis you."

"I should have been there. I could have helped."

"Twas the place of your birth...your home. Of course you wanted to help defend it. However, the only thing you would have achieved is your death."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do." Morrigan said in stern disagreement, "You would have risked everything to save the village and its inhabitants, never yielding to defeat. You would have given your life without hesitation. But the people of Ferelden need their Grey Warden alive and well."

"The _people _need me?"

"_I _need you, as well." she whispered back while caressing his cheek.

He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to him while she leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. Neither said anything more. The witch simply nestled against him, doing her best to ease his pain, while The Warden quietly bowed his head, filled with great sorrow at the loss of nearly everything he held dear.

The Warden's grief bothered the witch greatly. She was still unaccustomed to feeling any sort of empathy, let alone displaying it. But Morrigan very much disliked seeing her man in such a saddened state and all she desired was to be able to relieve him of the hurt the coursed through him. For the very first time in her life, Morrigan allowed herself to be the steady rock for someone else to lean against for strength and support. Surprisingly, she found it came easily to her where The Warden was concerned. Without hesitation, he accepted her love and allowed it to grow inside of him, numbing the pain.

"Thank you." he whispered in her ear as he squeezed her against him.

"Is there some reason you've decided to destroy my castle, Warden?" a booming voice said, coming from the now-open doorway.

"Arl Eamon...you're back." the surprised Warden said, quickly standing and arranging his mussed attire, "I didn't hear you come in."

"What is this news I hear about Highever. Is it true?" the arl asked.

"Highver was destroyed. One of my brother's men delivered the message. He and Ban Teagan are leading their forces to Denerim. They plan to make their stand there."

"Stand?" The arl inquired, "Against who?"

"We have a great deal to discuss."

"Indeed." the arl agreed, "I am gone for only a few days and all hell breaks loose in my absence."

* * *

"Welcome, your majesty. I regret that we must meet under such dire circumstances." A tall, slender man adorned in an ornate white robe said in greeting. His movements were elegant and graceful, almost seeming to glide on the air as he approached Alistair's small cage, "I am Denolian. Please, allow me to apologize for your accommodations. We were not prepared for a visitor of your stature."

"You! You're the crackpot behind all this, aren't you?" Alistair demanded, "You're the mad priest I've been hearing about."

"Mad?" Denolian asked with a chuckle, "Oh, I think history will remember me differently."

"Why have you done all this? What could that twisted mind of yours possibly want?"

"Ferelden and its people have grown weak and complacent. They have turned their back on the Maker and his true teachings. I aim to correct that."

"You're a liar!" Alistair retorted loudly, "You claim to come in the name of the Maker, but all I see is bloodshed."

"Did not Andraste herself lead a mighty army against the bloated and evil Tevinter Impirium? I am doing no different."

"Andraste sought justice, not conquest."

"Sometimes the two are one and the same."

"This isn't one of those times."

"Soon, your majesty, you will see the wisdom of my actions, as will all of Ferelden."

"The Warden will stop you. He won't let you destroy Ferelden."

"There are some things even the Grey Warden is powerless to prevent." Denolian replied as he turned to leave.

"I just hope I'm there to see him bury his blade in your guts!" Alistair shouted, causing the priest to stop and turn around to face him once more.

"Your precious warden can't save you. Even as we speak, my army rides to obliterate what's left of your forces. They think they'll be safe from my reach in Denerim, but they are wrong. Right now, throughout all Ferelden, my followers are making preparations, waiting to heed my call. When that call is given, they shall come to me. And no one will be able to save Ferelden from the fate that awaits it."

"You're completely out of your skull."

"It's been a pleasure, your majesty." Denolian said with a smile and a slight bow before turning again to leave, "Feel free to make yourself comfortable. I have a feeling you'll be our guest for some time." he finished as he walked through the open doorway and out of the castle dungeon, as the guard slammed the door shut behind the mad priest with a loud slam.

"You better hurry, Dwemer...wherever you are." Alistair muttered to himself.

* * *

The remnants of the king's army trudged wearily on their way to Denerim. Even under the constant threat of being caught by Denolian's soldiers, both man and the beast moved with slow, heavy feet. Despite the teyrn's best efforts, morale was low, and sinking lower by the minute. Nearly all of the men under Fergus' command had lost everything. His militia was in shambles and the rest of the forces were in no better shape. Of the six nobles who responded to the call for aid, five were killed in the battle. Only Ban Teagan survived.

Not only had many knights lost their lords, but the entire northern Bannorn would be thrown into chaos. Soon there would be border disputes and internal strife as heirs and neighbors vied to fill the void left behind by the fallen noblemen. In the process, conveniently keeping the lords too distracted to mount much resistance to the mad priest and his army. Ultimately, it was up to the king to settle such disputes. However, Alistair had gone missing and would be unable to intervene.

Fergus thought it was almost like a game of chess. The forces of good on one side and the Order of Bohlen on the other. But Denolian had effectively removed both the king and The Warden from the board. Ferelden would have to win this match on its own, without the help of its two most important pieces. And it was up to Fergus to figure out how, before the mad priest had them at check mate.

"With luck, we should make Denerim by nightfall." Fergus said.

"What are your plans when we arrive?" Captain Dyana asked.

"Our first job will be to fortify the city and get ready for the inevitable attack."

"What about the king? Are you going to send someone after him?"

"Look around you, captain. We can't spare the men. Besides, we don't even know if the king is alive or not at this point."

"We have to try, my lord. Allow me to take two men and go search for him."

"I'm afraid the answer is no, captain."

"Then I'll go by myself."

"Out of the question. You are needed here."

"But, my lord..."

"Captain, I understand how you feel. I want him found as much as you do. But we can't afford to lose any more senior officers."

"With all due respect, it was my sworn job to protect him. I failed at that."

"You can't blame yourself, Dyana. Right now these men need you to lead them. Don't you think I want nothing more than to send as many of these men as I can to find my nephew? Maker knows what that monster has done to an innocent child. But whatever this Denolian's plans are, I suspect he intends use Seth to keep my brother at bay. And trust me, when Dwemer finds out what happened to his son, there will be no place for Denolian to hide; in this world or the next."

* * *

Arl Eamon had barely been back a few hours when again found himself making preparations to leave. This time, however, there would be no happy reunion with his son. This time, he was organizing his knights and gathering his soldiers, making them ready to march. Eamon intended on meeting up with Fergus and Teagan to reinforce their position in Denerim. But it would take well more than three days of hard marching to reach the city. It was decided that The Warden and his party would abandon their quest for the Eye of Arvisarok, and instead, go to Denerim ahead of the arl's men. All parties agreed that the sooner The Warden was in Denerim to face the threat, the better. Morrigan and The Warden were especially anxious to go as quickly as possible. The couple was impatient to see their son and confirm that he was safe and well.

So The Warden, joined by his witch, Morrigan, as well as by Leliana, Zevran, and Leo, headed out from Redcliffe Castle to the northeast, following the main road. They would be able to reach Denerim a great deal faster than the arl's soldiers and right now speed was of the essence. They had underestimated Denloian once already and it had cost them dearly. The Warden promised himself it would not happen again.

He knew that Denolian had always intended to strike quickly, but not even The Warden figured the priest would be able to have such a large army ready in such short a time. Apparently, having been seen spurred the Order to complete their tasks with haste; much faster than The Warden anticipated. Now it was The Warden's turn to respond and show the priest just how big of a mistake he made. Once he made it to Denerim, he could lead the battle against the Order and drive them out of Ferelden and back into the sea from which they came. But, when it came to this foe, however, The Warden was continually finding out they were always at least one step ahead of him.

"At last! The great Grey Warden and his companions." a well-armored man on horseback next to the road called out to the party.

"I'm sorry, I don't have time to stop. We're in a bit of a hurry." The Warden called back.

"There's someone who needs to talk to you. You'd be wise to listen to what he has to say."

From all around the group, armored men, some on horses, emerged from the surrounding brush. There were at least ten individuals in all, each adorned in a deep red robe, save one. The last man to reveal himself was dressed in a long flowing robe that was as black as pitch. His face was obscured from view beneath the shadow of his dark cloak, but both the witch and The Warden instantly recognized him as the same dark figure they'd both seen before.

"It seems we were expected." the witch noted.

"Greetings, Grey Warden. I am known as the Black Warden."

"I know who you are." The Warden replied, "I saw you on the island. I heard you address Denolian's army."

"I'm glad you remember me."

"I'll never forget what you and that twisted priest you serve did to Highever!" The Warden shouted back, "I will see all of you pay for what you did!"

"I find that highly unlikely, Warden."

"First I'm going to kill you and all your men, then I'm going to crush your army."

"Isn't there something else you should be doing instead?" the dark man asked, "Like retrieving the amulet?"

"I'm done with your wild-goose chase! I won't be manipulated by you or anyone else!"

"That's a real shame. I have someone here with me who was really counting on you finding the amulet." the Black Warden responded as he gestured to one of his men.

The man darted back into the bushes and returned a few minutes later, leading something by the hand. It was a small boy with jet-black hair and deep golden eyes.

"_Seth_!" Morrigan yelled in terror while the rest of the party quickly drew their weapons and made ready for combat.

"I wouldn't be so hasty, if I were you. Children have been known to get hurt around sharp objects." the Black Warden said calmly.

"Mom'er!" the boy yelled gleefully upon seeing his mother, giving a cheerful wave. When his young eyes spotted The Warden, a hush came over him and his face twisted in bewilderment.

"Seth, dearest...mother is right here. 'Twill be alright. I'll not let any harm come to you." Morrigan said, trying to sooth her child and herself.

"As you can see, the boy is quite unharmed. But that can change in an instant."

The Warden's jaws clenched tightly and he squeezed his fists into balls, "What do you want from me?" he asked.

"Simple. Find the Eye of Arvisarok and bring it to me. Do so and your son goes free."

"Monster!" Leliana yelled out, "You claim to be followers of the Maker, yet you hide behind innocent children! What kind of man are you?"

The Black Warden chuckled at the bard, "A smart one." he said.

"Fine! I'll get your damned amulet. But if you so much as muss his hair..."

"Come now, Warden. Idle threats don't become you."

"I'll be back for my son. You can bet on it."

"Exactly what I wanted to hear. You have a week. If you are unable to locate the amulet in that time...well, let's just say it would make Seth here very unhappy."

The witch's rage seethed until it bubbled over and she hissed through her teeth, "Know this, when our task is completed, I will kill you myself. I shall rip your still-beating heart from your chest and choke you with it."

"One week, Warden. The clock is ticking."


	19. Chapter 19

**Part IXX**

It had taken him days to find The Warden and his party, but eventually, he was able to track The Warden to Redcliffe from Highever. After having arrived in Highever just in time to witness it's destruction, he found The Warden wasn't there. From the tattered local populace, he learned that The Warden had embarked on a quest of some sort, although, none of the people he spoke to seemed to know exactly what it was. Some seemed to recall seeing The Warden head to the south, possibly towards Redcliffe.

The shadowy figure spied the group from behind the cover of the thick foliage along the road. He stayed nearly a hundred yards in back of them so as not to be noticed. He found the party just as they were leaving the hills near Redcliffe behind and he had seen their recent encounter with the other riders. Silently, the figure watched as the Black Warden dangled Seth before The Warden and the witch, making the pair dance to the his dark tune. He had also seen Alistair be captured by Denolian's men and brought into the castle to be subjected to Maker only knows what kind of torture.

For many hours, he chose not to reveal himself. He had no real reasons for waiting, other than he wanted to observe them for a while, especially Morrigan. The witch chose to retain her human form and sat behind her warden on his mount, her arms wrapped about his waist. The figure hiding in the bushes watched her carefully with a thoughtful eye. He always wondered why The Warden had chosen Morrigan over him and wanted to see the reason for himself.

All of Ferelden had heard tales of the witch's exploits, and the hidden figure was no different. They told of her deeds during the blight and of the great romance between she and The Warden. But being a member of The Warden's inner circle gave him access to other stories about Morrigan. Ones that painted her in an entirely different light. Those tales told of a cruel and cunning woman who would stop at nothing in her quest for power. They cast her as a vicious and vile monster and labeled her a bloodmage.

He heard the stories from people who had seen the witch and The Warden together in Denerim: guards at the royal palace, the members of the local chantry, especially those who were familiar with Leliana, and other members of the Grey Wardens, including Alistair. So, he just had to know why would The Warden pick a maleficar over him?

But hours of observation had revealed nothing. Mostly the party members were quiet and somber. The witch leaned her head against The Warden's back while they rode; a deep look of worry on her face. They were moving at a fairly good rate and the watcher was having difficulty keeping his quarry in sight at times. As the day waned and the sun began to set, The Warden and his companions made camp just north of where the town Lothering once stood. It was then that he decided to come out of the shadows and show himself.

"Who goes there?" The Warden cried out, hearing the mabari barking at the approaching figure riding into camp. The noise attracted the attention of the others, who eyed the rider suspiciously.

"And here I thought you'd be _glad_ to see me." the rider called back.

"_Silas?" _The Warden asked cautiously, not believing his ears. Instantly Morrigan's ears perked up and her gaze focused on the figure when she heard the name.

"You'd didn't think you'd get rid of me _that_ easily, did you?" Silas confirmed, dismounting his steed and stepping fully into the light of the fire. His head was wrapped in a white bandage and his left arm hung in a sling that was tied around his shoulder. As he walked, a visible limp was evident in his gate.

"Silas!" The Warden yelled as he grabbed the younger warden squeezed tightly, picking the poor lad off his feet.

"Ooofff" Silas grunted, "It's good to see you to, Dwemer. Now put me down so I can breathe!"

A gasp escaped Morrigan and she rushed closer to the fire while Zevran and Leliana looked on. "Surely, this cannot be." she said, dumbfounded by Silas' presence, "I saw you crushed. The entire passage collapsed."

"It did collapse. But two of the larger stones wedged together, creating a small ledge over my head. I wasn't fully protected and was still badly injured, but I managed to survive. I could faintly hear you calling for me. The last thing I remember before I blacked out was you arguing with the king. I know you wanted to dig for me." he said to the witch.

"How did you get out?" The Warden asked.

"When I regained consciousness, everything was pitch black. My arm was broken badly. Somehow, I still managed to move enough rocks to dig myself free, but I was still weak and it took a long time."

"How long?"

"Three days or so. I don't know for sure. I could see sunlight shining into the cave entrance the more I dug. It's what kept me going."

"Had I known you yet lived..." the witch muttered.

"I was mad for a while. But being trapped there in the dark, I had plenty of time to think about it. I don't blame you for what happened. I blame myself. I had other motives for leading you to that cave..."

"As we found out." Morrigan noted, her hands going to their usual spot on her hips.

"Oh, Maker, I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt! You have to believe me!" the young warden pleaded, "They said they only wanted to talk to you. That's all."

"Who, Silas? Who said that?" The Warden asked.

"His name was Jervik, he said. He was wearing a red robe covered in mage's symbols. There was this other guy, too, dressed in a black robe that covered his face so I didn't get to see it. They said they had been watching me and knew how I felt about Morrigan and that a lot of people felt the same way as I did. They said they had a way to convince you to leave her and go back to the Grey Wardens."

"'Convince' is hardly the word I would use to describe it." Morrigran huffed, "Those men tried to kill us. Why would you do such a thing?"

"Because I was mad."

"Mad? What for?" The Warden asked.

Silas turned his eyes to The Warden, "Because you left." he said.

"Silas..."

"You left me there! I didn't have anyone else!" the young warden fumed, "Filthy maleficars took my family. You were the only family I had left."

"We talked about this. You knew I had to leave. I told you I had to look for Morrigan. You seemed fine enough when I left Vigil's Keep. And what do you mean you were alone? What about the other wardens?"

"What about them? They never really accepted me, they all thought I was too young. Just like you did at first. Alistair was the only one who would to talk to me, probably because he was the youngest at one time, too. But he was hardly ever there."

"So you decided to get even with me for abandoning you, is that it?"

Silas' gaze dropped to his feet, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt. I just thought that if those men could convince you to come back to the Grey Wardens..."

"Yeah...I get it." The Warden said with a nod, "But right now I don't have time for this. There's something I have to do and I don't have much time."

"The Eye of Arvisarok...I know." Silas said, "I overheard your meeting with the man in the black robes. He has your son. I got you into this mess, its only right that I do anything I can to help you get out of it."

"From the looks of it, you're in no shape to help anybody."

"I can ride a horse, and I can still swing a blade as well as you can."

"You keep telling yourself that." The Warden replied with a large grin.

"Oh!" Silas said, snapping his fingers,"I saw them capture the king. They took him inside the castle." he blurted out, suddenly remembering.

"Damn." The Warden muttered, " We'll have to figure out a way to get him out of there. That'll be our next task after we're finished with the amulet."

"I've broken _you_ out of worse places." Morrigan noted, "As least he still lives."

Ruffling the younger warden's hair, The Warden said, "What you did was foolish, but I don't care about that, right now. I'm just happy to see you."

"How can you be so forgiving?" the witch huffed while her arms folded, "Your beloved protégé is the one responsible for nearly all our troubles. Need I remind you, had we not been separated in the first place, the Order of Bohlen would not have attacked Highever, and we would still be at the castle with our son."

"You said it yourself, they would have found another way to get us apart." The Warden replied, "The only thing Silas is really guilty of is being naive. He let someone else take advantage of him."

"I truly am sorry." Silas reiterated as earnestly as he could.

"So we've heard." the witch quipped.

"He's just a kid who made a stupid mistake. The Order are the ones truly responsible for everything. They're the ones we need to focus on. Besides, what would _you _have done in his situation?" The Warden asked.

"'Tis an unfair question." the witch complained.

"How so?"

"Because you know full well how I would have dealt with the same circumstances, were I him. But thanks to your efforts, I am not the woman I once was. Therefore, the question is invalid."

"My point exactly."

The witch was rendered speechless and stood there with her mouth hanging open. "You are an ass." she finally said.

"Now, let's see if we can get Morrigan to look at those wounds of yours." The Warden said, pointing to the young warden's bandages, "They look like you did them yourself."

"Oh, very well." the witch groaned, grabbing Silas by the arm and leading him to sit on a large log that was set next to the fire, "Let's have a look at you."

* * *

It was only a matter of time before Denolian's forces were able to catch up to Teyrn Fergus and his battered army. Many of the teyrn's men traveled on foot and a great number were also injured and could hardly walk at all. Others were dragged along on makeshift stretchers or rode on a strong comrade's back. The fear in their hearts was the only thing that drove them onward. To the last man, they were aware that somewhere behind them, the Order's army was rapidly gaining ground, hunting them. And soon it would envelope them, like the jaws of a steel trap snapping shut.

Denerim was nearly two hundred miles to the southeast of Highever. A great deal of land to cross at any time, greater still when one feels the tip of a blade pressed into their back by a far off enemy closing from the rear. Each minute that passed was a blessing and a curse. A blessing to still be alive, but the curse of knowing constant fear.

But with each step, what was left of the once-proud royal army, grew closer to Denerim and the safety its stout walls provided. And, after a bloody march that took agonizing days, the long tall forms of the city's many towers finally came into view. Relief filled the teyrn's men and their pace quickened as they rounded the final turn in the road before standing in front of the Denerim's proud city gate, which, under the current crisis, had been closed tight.

Fergus was on his mount alongside Ban Teagan at the front of the long down trodden procession. As they stood in the shadow of the great gate, they shouted orders to the men to form them into ranks so they might better be able to enter the city. Men along the allure above rushed to open the gate as quickly as they could. The wood and steel gate gave a loud creaking moan as it began to slowly swing open.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Fergus caught the figure of a man on horseback sitting just behind a ridge several hundred yards away. Soon the figure was joined by several more, then even more, until, at last, the whole ridge was covered with riders mounted on black horses. There were thousands of them and all bore the crest of the Order of Bohlen on their glistening armor.

"We've got company." Fergus said to the ban, gesturing towards the distant ridge.

"They're just sitting there. What do you suppose they're waiting for?" Teagan replied while he spurred the men to move faster.

"I don't know..." Fergus said while he thought, "The gate is almost open and they'll have lost their chance."

"It doesn't make any sense." Teagan agreed.

"Unless...Oh, no!" he gasped when he realized the Order's intent. "Wait! Stop! Don't open the gate!" the teyrn shouted to the top of the wall as loudly as he could.

"Don't open the gate? Are you mad?"

"They're not after us!" Fergrus cried, "They're after Denerim!"

"What are you saying?"

And, just as the teyrn had feared, as if cued by the loud slam the gate made when it had finally swung open, all the horseman along the far ridge began their charge. The sharp steel of their spurs dug into the sides of their steeds as they raced toward the now vulnerable city.

"Close it! Close the damn gate!" Fergus tried to yell in vain as a hail of arrows filled the sky, arcing downwards and killing all the men on the top of the wall. Now, not only was the gate wide open, but there was no one left alive to close it.

"You men!" the teyrn shouted to three soldiers standing near him, "Get up that wall and close that damn gate!"

"Yes, my lord!" the said in unison and darted inside the gate and up the ladders.

"The rest of you, _form up_! We will hold this gate until our final breath if we have to!" Fergus ordered fiercely.

They teyrn's men quickly lined up and readied themselves to defend the wide opening to the city. Those in front braced against their large kite shields, poking their long sharp blades between the gaps of the shield wall.

"Pikemen!" Teagan called out. Men with long spears tipped with large deadly barbs rushed to the front of the lines. They hid behind the shield wall, leaning their pikes forward, bracing the butt against the ground, and anchoring it underfoot.

With a thunderous crash, the charging men on horseback slammed into the front lines. Blood and wooden splinters flew freely through the air. The deadly points of many pikes found their mark, being driven deep into the ground from ramming a horse running at full speed. In an instant, the shrill cries of battle filled the air.

Metal clanking against metal rang out, echoing off the stone city walls. Clouds of thick dust were kicked up amid the thousands of trampling feet and hooves, shrouding the entire area under a dark shadow. Badly wounded men and beasts rolled about the grass, crying out in agony while the others fought on around them.

The teyrn's army held their place valiantly, protecting the opening to the city, but they would be unable to do so for very long. Denolian's forces outnumbered the teyrn's men three to one and fully a third of the Order's soldiers were mounted. They would only be able to hold the line a short while against such a foe. It was up to the three men Fergus dispatched to close the gate as quickly as possible.

With another loud groan, the gate started slowly closing. The teyrn's men began a steady retreat behind the safety of the thick gate. First, the soldiers in back ran into the city and up the walls; dropping their blades in favor of bows. Arrows rained down onto the Order's men from above, providing cover while the rest of the teyrn's forces withdrew into the city. Swords still clanged against one another through the thinning slit in the gate, until it at last swung shut with a great slam.

"Captain, I want every available man you have guarding this gate." Fergus said as he approached Dyana. "We'll be setting up at the royal palace. In the meantime I want every able man in this city pressed into service. Get them armored and armed. Teach them what you can in the short amount of time we have. We may even get lucky and have a few retired soldiers in the lot."

"It might be worth seeing if any mercenaries can be found hanging around the docks, as well." Teagan added. "I'll have my men see to that."

"Good idea. We'll meet at the palace afterward and start making our preparations."

* * *

The small path in front of The Warden and his party withered and died as it approached the dense tree line. Beyond lie the Korcari Wilds. A largely unexplored region containing the most vicious beasts and bloodthirsty cutthroats one could ever think to encounter. Death lurked behind every tree, and around every turn, from packs of wolves to raids by the Chasind savages. Not to mention the venomous insects and plants that were found in abundant variety. But, most importantly, it was where Morrigan grew up.

It was here that Flemeth had taken the witch when she was still an infant. For many years it was the only world she knew. A harsh world were survival was the only goal. Each day spent alive was a success all on its own. It was what shaped the witch for nearly all her life. Good and evil were relative. One did what one must in order to continue drawing breath. And in the process if you managed to gain something for your efforts, then so much the better.

"I never thought to again find myself in these wilds." Morrigan said from her spot on the back of The Warden's horse, "In truth, there are parts I have greatly missed. But that life is behind me now. I wish to keep it in the past. We need to focus on our task and leave as quickly as possible."

The Warden cast a curious eye over his shoulder, back at the witch, "Why do I get the feeling you already know where to look?"

"I might, indeed." the witch confirmed, "When I was a young girl, Flemeth moved us deeper into the wilds to escape the constant threat the templars posed. Nearby lay a ruined temple that I was able explore on occasion. And, although I am not certain, the seal above the temple entry closely resembled the crest of the Order of Bohlen. It would seem as good a place as any to start."

"Do you remember where it is?"

"Twas our home for several years. My moth...Flemeth...had chosen our hiding spot well. I can recall its exact location."

"If it was so well hidden, why did you leave it?" Zevran asked, "A secluded haven could be most advantageous."

"Because our solitude did not last. Eventually, as always, the templars again found us. Twas a constant nuisance which we endured. Had they let us be, many templar lives would not have been lost."

"You almost sound like you regret it. What you did in the past, I mean." Leliana said.

"I regret nothing. 'Tis a different world entirely, here in the wilds. The sooner you accept that, the greater our chance of success."

Southward they traveled for most of the day, venturing deeper into the wilds. The going was slow, but steady. There were no roads to speak of, only thin, wiry trails that meandered radically through the dense forest. Morrigan keenly guided them as they went. Her knowledge of the terrain was such that it seemed as if she could have led the way blindfolded. The map in her head was far more detailed and accurate than any drafted by the royal cartographers, themselves.

As nightfall came, they reached their destination in the very heart of the Korcari Wilds. The rising moon cast a ghostly glow on the ruins, giving it a haunting appearance. The forest was reclaiming this space as its own Thick vines climbed the once magnificent marble columns and trees and bushes sprang out of any crack. Scattered piles of rubble and debris dotted the ground all about. The seal carved into the marble above the entrance was indeed similar to the Order's, but years of weather and decay had obscured parts of it so as to make any definitive confirmation impossible.

"We can set up camp here. Afterward, Morrigan and I will go into the ruins to look for the amulet."

"What what are we to do in your absence?" the elf asked, "Surely, you will need our skills inside the ruins."

"The idea is to get in and out as fast as possible. Morrigan is familiar with this place. If there are any traps or other hazards, I'll have to trust she knows where they are. Wait here and keep a sharp eye. Our friends may have followed us here. If you see anything, I want to know immediately."

"I can do this." Zevran acknowledged with a swift nod.

"And remember, no fires." the witch warned, "'Twill only attract unwanted guests."

"Guests? What sort?" the bard asked, already busying herself with the task of gathering wood.

"Wolves, if you are lucky. Or perhaps the odd bear."

"And if we're not lucky?"

"Any number of foul creatures, from a lone darkspawn, to a horde of the undead, might choose to pay a visit. Twas the downfall of many an unfortunate traveler."

The sticks and twigs were dropped from Leliana's arms and fell to the ground, "I think we can do without those sorts of guests." she said.

After the camp had been set up, The Warden and his witch prepared to enter the ruins. When the necessary gear was packed they made their way out of camp and ventured to the entrance to the temple ruins. They stopped at the base of the once grand marble steps. The Warden put his thumb and middle finger to his lips and whistled loudly. A loud bark erupted as Leo bolted from his spot near the horses, heeding the call. Together, the three of them climbed the steps to the temple.

"I hope this is the place." The Warden said as he stared at the seal above the entrance.

"For the Black Warden's sake, it had better be. If he harms my son in any way, I shall ensure his eternal misery in the deepest depths of Hell."


	20. Chapter 20

**Part XX**

General Regorda overlooked his troops from atop the ridge that lie beyond the gates of Denerim. The city beyond those gates had almost been in his grasp. Their ploy to remain unseen as they tracked Ferelden's forces and lull the fools into opening the way to the city very nearly paid off. But as with all things in war, some schemes, no matter how cunning, are doomed to fail. Taking the city now would be much more difficult, but not impossible. After all, the Order had many faithful agents residing within Demerim's strong walls. It should be easy enough to get messages to and from the city.

The general was a veteran of many conflicts. Although he was originally from Orlais, he served various lords from Antiva to the Free Marches over many years. His whole life had been one of nothing but military service. His devout faith accompanied him on all his treks to war. The general always felt deeply that it was the Maker who guided his blade, and that he had always sided with the virtuous and just, for how can the Maker's hand do otherwise?

It was Master Denolian who showed Regorda the true face of Ferelden. She had become bloated and weak. Vermin and filth were everywhere. Even after having been saved from the Blight, through the Maker's divine grace, the people of Ferelden chose to turn their backs on Him. Instead of glorifying His name, they committed the greatest blaspheme of all: granting a pardon to a vile maleficar. When Regorda heard the news that the Apostatic Exculpation had been granted, he was totally convinced of what Denolian said. Ferelden had become an abomination that needed to be cleansed. The hallowed city of Denerim, the birthplace of Andraste, would be purged of the wicked and corrupt. And the Chantry would finally be punished for their sacrilege. Only when Ferelden had been restored to the path of righteousness would the Maker return, just as Master Denolian had preached.

And just beyond the ridge lay the general's prize. It was only a matter of time before Denerim fell to his forces. The Maker decreed that it be so. But now was time for prayer and reflection. He had confidence that the Almighty would show him how best to get Denerim to unlock her gilded cage and invite his forces inside.

A runner approached the general, puffing and out of breath. "General Regorda" he said, panting, "I bring word from the lookouts in the south. They've seen something."

"What was it?" Regorda asked.

"I don't know, Ser. They only told me to get you as fast as I could."

"Well then, let's go see what this is all about." the grizzled general said as he kicked his heels into the side of his steed.

When the general arrived at his lookout's post near the southern tip of the city, he rode up to one of the many men who had been posted all around Denerim to keep a watchful eye. "What's this I hear that you've spotted something."

"Yes, ser!" the man cried out, "A lone ship set sail about an hour after sunrise heading eastward out into the ocean. No escorts or other vessels accompanied it. And they were in a hurry, too, going out under full sail."

"This is a port city. What's so odd about that?"

"The ship didn't sail under a banner. Almost like they were trying to hide something."

"Let me look for myself." the general ordered has he reached out his hand for the lookout's spyglass, which the man dutifully gave.

Regorda raised the narrow end to his eye and looked through the device. The white speck against the distant horizon was suddenly made larger through the glass, allowing the general to see that the ship indeed sailed without a banner or crest of any kind. Considering the size and craftsmanship of the vessel, there was little doubt it was part of the royal fleet.

The bulk of the naval forces were still either at sea or docked at Amaranthine, including the Gryphon. The small contingent of vessels that were left in Denerim posed little threat to Regorda and his troops. Not that ships were much use against a land-bound military. The only danger Alistair's navy ever posed was to the two hundred troop carriers that ferried the Order's army to the mainland. But due to the Maker's divine intervention, the king was never made aware until it was far too late.

"What are you up to, my crafty teyrn?" the general muttered while he continued to spy the ship though the glass, "Ferelden has no allies to the east. Who could they be trying to contact?" Regorda mumbled to himself.

Eventually, the ship sailed past the horizon and beyond view. "Perhaps Teyrn Fergus intends to call on his friend Arl Eamon for aid? But, thanks to the efforts of the Black Warden, we already know the arl is on his way."

* * *

The fireplace roared inside the main study of the royal palace in Denerim. Teyrn Fergus and Ban Teagan were gathered around a table covered with maps of the city and the surrounding countryside in an attempt to devise a strategy for defeating the Order. And from everything they'd seen so far, defending the city was going to be a much more difficult task than they originally planned.

First of all, Denerim was a coastal city, and being such, the geography was mostly a flat gradual slope to the shore of the Amaranthine Ocean; save for Dragon's Peak, upon which Fort Drakon is built. Putting it bluntly, Denerim sat in a bowl. That meant Regorda and the Order had the high ground. The city's location was decided by commerce, not by defensibility.

Secondly, there weren't near enough able men in the city who could be pressed into the army. It seems that news of a large force bearing down on Denerim got around, and many of the city's populace managed to flee south before the Order's arrival. Thankfully Ban Teagan was able to locate several groups of mercenaries looking to make some coin. They weren't many, but it was better than nothing.

"We have to find a way to send word to my brother." Teagan said, "We have to assume The Warden was successful in convincing him and that he's on his way."

"You're right. They'll be cut down if the Order sees them before they can make it to the city gates." Fergus agreed, "We can't open the gate again. It's too risky. We'll have to find another way to get Eamon and his men into the city."

"And just how do you propose we accomplish that miracle?"

"I haven't quite got that part figured out yet." the teyrn admitted,"But I do have an idea on how to get word to the arl without our lovely guests finding out."

"I'm all ears."

"We'll take the long way around."

A puzzled look came across Ban Teagan's face, "I don't follow you..." he said.

"We send a ship east, out into the ocean. We know our friends will be watching, so the ship sails past the horizon and out of sight before it launches a second, smaller vessel which contains our messenger. The smaller boat then sails south until it is well out of range of the city and turns towards land. In the meantime the first boat returns to port leaving the Order's observers clueless. It'll take at least a day to accomplish, but I don't see any other alternatives at this point."

"I hope there's time to pull it off."

"We'll have to keep a tight lid on this, too. We know the Order has members inside the city. We can't risk them finding out."

"Agreed."

* * *

The inside of the ruin was completely black. Light hadn't found its way to the interior of the darkened corridors for many years. A bright flash erupted from Morrigan's palm and an orb of blue light appeared in the air, bathing the temple in a soft glow. The tall marble columns cast long shadows against the far end of the large round foyer. The high, domed roof was painted with a detailed mural depicting the night sky, A large emerald was painted in the center, at the dome's peak, bordered by a ring of ghastly demons and devils who were swallowing men whole.

"I always thought those images were rather interesting. 'Tis exactly as I remember." Morrigan said when she noticed The Warden staring at the ceiling, "I've no idea as to they're meaning, however."

"A bit creepy for my tastes." he replied, "Where should we start looking?"

"I do not recall seeing anything like a magical amulet or gem when I came here exploring for baubles as a child, Although, further inside the temple there are stairs which lead below to another chamber. I never ventured down them, however, as I encountered that part of the ruin was infested with hellish creatures I discovered lurking there. I assumed they were the ones responsible for the temple's abandonment."

"We didn't figure it was going to be easy, did we, boy?" The Warden sighed, looking over to the mabari who gave an acknowledging bark in response.

"'Tis never easy, my love." the witch agreed.

The couple, joined by the mabari, made their way through the dark passages with urgency, the witch and her warden were most eager to complete the mission and return to their child. They walked passed the large worship hall, in which stood a large statue of a winged demon with a most menacing stare. A curious image for an order supposedly devoted to the Maker, The Warden thought.

At the end of a long corridor that wound its way through the temple, they found an arched doorway. The wooden door that once was hung there had long since rotted away, and they could clearly make out a long flight of stairs descending deep into the earth. Bones were scattered about the floor all around the doorway, as if marking the entrance to a lair.

Together, the three of them slowly followed the steps downward. The further down they went, the more the air began to fill with the sweet, sickly smell of rot and decay. Bits of decomposing carcasses littered the stairway beneath their feet. The hapless victims obviously met a gruesome fate at the hands of something most foul.

Then, from somewhere down below came a sound. It was like a thousand squeaks and chirps combined with the sound of many sharp claws raking against stone. The glow of small red and yellow eyes began to grow brighter. First a few, then many more, until there were hundreds, possibly thousands of demonic eyes glowing evilly at the witch and The Warden, gradually creeping up from below.

"I suggest we retreat back up the stairs." Morrigan said calmly, doing her best to hide her anxiousness.

"There's too many of them. We'll have to face them here, where it's narrow, and hope for the best." he responded as he drew his blades. "If we go back up where its more open, they'll swarm around us. This is our best shot, but we're going to have to kill an awful lot of them. How much flame do you think you've got in you?"

"A good bit, but not an endless supply." she answered.

"Get as many as you can. With some luck, we'll find a way to hold off the rest."

The witch stood calm and focused inward, channeling her power and drawing it out to the surface. "I am ready." she said with a nod.

"Fireballs first, then flames when they move in close enough." he said as the first of the monstrous creatures burst into the light of Morrigan's orb with a horrid shriek. It was small and hairless and its skin was a sickly pale white with gray splotches scattered here and there. It's shape was roughly human, yet its feet bore long sharp claws and three toes, its long ears ended in sharp peaks, and its eyes glowed red like those of a rat.

A fireball exploded forth from the witch's hands, streaking through the air and smashing into the beast causing it to blow apart. Another blast destroyed another creature as it jumped into view. Then another. And another. More and more of them kept coming, and before long, Morrigan was throwing her fireballs as fast as she could fling them, exploding many of the foul beasts into bits. Beads of sweat started to form on the witch's forehead as she put everything she had into her efforts. Eventually, there were just far too many of the things closing in and the pair were in danger of being overrun.

The witch gave a gesture, summoning her power, and shot her hands forward crying out as she did so. The fireballs were replaced by a stream of flame that erupted outward, consuming the entire mass of creatures in a wave of fire. Shrieks of agony escaped them as they burned inside the inferno.

"I can't hold them back much longer!" Morrigan cried out as her flames started to show the first signs of weakening.

"Alright, boy. It gets a bit more messy from here on out." The Warden said the his mabari.

Leo's eyes were fixed on his master, anxiously awaiting the command to leap into action.

"Leo, kill!" The Warden shouted loudly as the last of Morrigan's fire sputtered out and the foul creatures began to break through.

Instantly, the mabari pounced into the fray, ferociously tearing into the first unfortunate victim he encountered. The Warden's blades sprang into life as well, cutting and hacking through the endless waves of the vicious little monsters. The witch, having depleted all her magic, reached for the sword at her side and pulled it from its sheath. She raised the magical blade above her head and charged into the fight alongside her warden.

The three of them cut, slashed, chomped, bit, and tore, with everything they had, never seeming to run out of targets. The bodies of the monstrous imps had started to pile up along the staircase, making maneuvers more and more difficult. The Warden and Morrigan's mouths hung wide as they gasped for air, attempting to stave off fatigue, but failing. Sweat and blood, which soaked through their clothes, covered them head-to-toe.

"Agh!" The Warden shouted as one of the creatures managed to climb on his back and sink its dagger teeth into his shoulder. He reached back and snatched the imp from his back and threw it down as hard as he could muster, smashing the beast against the steps.

The witch narrowly dodged another as it jumped at her. "Dwemer!" she called out, "I hope you have some sort of plan in that head of yours."

Then something odd started to happen. Some of the creatures hesitated instead of attacking, suddenly not wanting to fight. Without warning, several of the imps darted off, back into the darkened depths. Others began to rethink their actions as well and decided to join their brethren below instead of being cut in two by The Warden's blade. One by one, the remaining beasts all fled back down the stairs until none were left at all.

"They've all gone." Morrigan said, taking deep heavy breaths "It would seem the creatures concluded we were more trouble than we're worth."

"Looks that way." The Warden agreed, collapsing down against the stairs to catch his breath. Even the mabari was panting heavily while his tongue hung out the side of his mouth.

"Come, my love." the witch urged as she tugged on The Warden's arm, There's no time to dawdle. We've no clue if those vicious little vermin will regain their nerve and try again. 'Tis best to keep moving."

"Let's hope not." he replied, as he stood up with a tired groan, "I don't know how much more of that I can take."

The trio again started down the steps, constantly on the lookout for the creatures' return. Brushing aside the many small bodies that had piled up during the fight, they ventured downward until the smooth carved walls changed into a rough cavern. Deeper still, the passage opened up into a large cave. It was here they found themselves at the base of the stairs at last.

Small red and yellow eyes kept close watch on The Warden and his companions from the edge of the shadows while the three inspected their surroundings. In the center of the room lie a round stone platform. Atop the platform rested a podium and a table. A large emerald that was fashioned into an ornate necklace twinkled in the light of Morrigan's glowing orb as it rested in its pedestal on the table, with several large tomes laying open beside it. More books and papers lay scattered about on the dirt floor, having been ripped to shreds. Skeletal remains lie in a clump near the bottom of the steps and around the platform, their red robes torn and ripped, almost as if they died attempting to escape. The entire room gave off the appearance that something had gone horribly wrong within it.

"I'm assuming this gem is what all the fuss is over." The Warden said as he looked over the table and its contents, "What do you think happened here?"

"From the look of things, I would say 'twas dark magic gone awry." The witch noted, "Perhaps what they summoned proved to be more than they bargained for."

"If the Eye is responsible for summoning those little monsters, I can see why the Order wants it so badly."

"The eye was not responsible for summoning the creatures," Morrigan noted as she thumed through the magical tomes, "Twas the Eye which created them, apparently."

"What are you saying?"

"Those...things...we encountered were at one time nothing more than dalish elves. The Eye of Arvisorok steals the souls of mortals, trapping them inside itself. These books, however, fail to mention what becomes of the souls after they've been trapped, save to state that the poor victims are forever transformed into rabid, mindless beasts."

"The ritual...the Eye...it all makes sense now. Denoloian plans to make a whole army of those things. Imagine thousands of those monsters let loose on Ferelden. We can't let that happen."

"First we get our son back, then we deal with the priest."

"I know. But we can't just hand over the amulet."

"What do you propose we do, then?"

"I don't know yet. But I'll think of something."

"You had better think quickly."

The witch gathered what books she could to take along for further study. She hoped they would give her an insight into the priest and what he was ultimately after. Morrigan knew deep in her bones that the conquest of Ferelden was only the beginning of Denolian's plans. Whatever he was truly after was much greater, and much darker.

* * *

Alistair tugged half-heartedly against his shackles. He had already tried in vain on more than one occasion to pull himself free. But even if he was able to free himself of the chains, there was no place to go. He was trapped inside a steel cage in the bottom of Castle Cousland, guarded by two large and well armed men.

The king started to think that someone should have come after him by now. After all, it had been days since he'd been thrown into the dank cell and usually The Warden was much quicker to mount a rescue. But there he sat, alone in the cage as the hours and days dragged on.

Occasionally, Denolian would deign to visit, if only to mock and pontificate. He would subject Alistair to the worst torture imaginable in the form of long-winded and rhetoric-filled speeches that justified the Order's actions. The priest would rant endlessly about how weak and sinful Ferelden had become, pointing his slender finger at the king and saying what a poor leader Alistair was and that the blame fell squarely on his shoulders. It was enough to drive a person mad, the king thought to himself.

As each minute slowly ticked by, Alistair's hope of rescue grew more dim. For all he knew, Denerim may have already fallen and The Warden could be dead. Without reliable news from the outside it was impossible to know anything for sure. All Alistair could do was pray that his army reached the safety of Denerim, and that somewhere his friend, The Warden, hadn't forgotten about him and was on his way. That faint glimmer of hope was the only thing Alistair had left to hang on to.

The only other course of action Alistair had was to attempt to escape on his own. But that was going to extremely difficult as he was kept shackled and under guard at all times. Bribing the guards wasn't an option, either, as their cause was based on faith and not personal gain. It had been made clear that the king was meant to be kept alive and unharmed, perhaps for some other purpose not yet mentioned. Still, it was the one thing Alistair had which he thought he could use to his advantage. To do so, he would have to convince the guards that his life was in jeopardy, or at least that he was in danger of being harmed.

"Help!" Alistair cried out as convincingly as he could, "Help! There's a rat crawling around in here!"

"Be quiet, you!" One of the guards shouted back.

"But there's a rat in here! If it gets on me it might bite me!"

"I said be quiet!" The guard shouted again, slamming the cage door for emphasis.

"Alright, but if your master finds out I've been injured, it'll be your fault."

"I'm not going to tell you again to shut up!"

"Ahh!" Alistair yelled, "It bit me! I'm bleeding!"

Quickly, the guard unlocked the door and rushed in, not willing to risk the king's safety, or his own if the king should truly be hurt. "Where is it? I don't see anything." he said as his eyes darted about the small cell.

"It ran under the bunk! If you hurry you can get it! Hurry up! I'm bleeding, here!"

The guard bent down to be able to look under the bunk on which Alistair sat. With a quick jerk of his wrist, Alistair brought the metal shackle down against the back of the guard's head with a loud _clank_ that knocked the man out cold. The king reached for the keys that were tied to the man's waist about his belt. Before the second guard had a chance to stop him, Alistair managed to get one hand free from its restraint.

"What're you doin'?" the gruffy man asked as he stormed into the cell.

Having more freedom to move, Alistair sprang up from the bunk as fast as he could, landing a solid blow to the groin of the second guard who then collapsed to the floor in pain. As the poor man lie there whimpering, Alistair hastily undid the other shackle. With a _ping_ the cuff popped open and he quickly flung it from his wrist and raced out the open cell door.

He ran through the dungeon towards the exit as rapidly as his feet would take him, passed the few other cells in the dungeon which were filled with other miserable souls. Upon reaching the door at the far end, he flung it open and hurried through. On the other side, though, were several more well-armed guards, all with their blades drawn and pointed directly at Alistair.

"And just where do you think you're off to, your majesty?" one of the soldiers asked.

The king's head dropped and his eyes fell to his feet, "Damn..." he muttered.


	21. Chapter 21

**Part XXI**

Ban Teagan and Teyrn Fergus looked out at the opposing army gathered just outside Denerim's gates. From their place atop the thick allure, the men could easily see what was going on in the encampment just beyond the city's walls. And, for the most part, it appeared to be a great deal of nothing. There were no visible signs of preparations for an assault of any kind. Mostly the men in the Order's camp went about as if nothing at all were about the happen. It made the two men even more nervous. They were both convinced that an attack was imminent, but it flustered them to no end that the Order refused to reveal even the slightest hint of when that attack might be. Fergus and Teagan could only guess at how to prepare and pray the Maker was with them.

"They're hiding something, I'm sure of it." Fergus mumbled, looking across the field at the enemy force, "Things over there have been too quiet. They're not trying to lay siege to the city, that much if certain. They don't have enough men and no navy to form a blockade."

"But if they keep this up, it might as well be a siege. No goods are coming into Denerim and our supplies won't last forever." Teagan noted.

"Fortunately most of the residents were able to flee. There's only a few thousand people left in the city. That will buy us a bit of time."

"Yes, but how many of those are agents for the Order?"

"That's the big question, now, isn't it? One that we've no real way of knowing."

"We don't even know if word was able to reach my brother or not. He and his men could be walking right into an ambush."

"True." the teyrn agreed, "If Eamon is on his way, we'll need every last man he's got. I have a feeling that if he is out there, our message was received. Captain Dyana is a very resourceful woman."

"I hope you're right. For all our sakes."

"Me, too."

"And speaking of brothers, what do you suppose is keeping yours?" Teagan asked.

"That's another excellent question, my friend. I wish I knew the answer. It's starting to look like we'll have to do this one on our own."

"We both know The Warden would already be here if he could. Something is keeping him away."

"We have to assume that the Order is using my nephew as leverage against Dwemer" Fergus replied, his stare still fixed on the Order's encampment, "Their plan was smart. From the beginning they wanted my brother as far away from the action as possible. They knew he was the only one who could stop them. It looks like they finally succeeded."

"What about Alistair? We don't even know if he's alive or not."

"I have a suspicion the good captain intends to find out that answer, herself."

"Didn't you tell her to return to the city as soon as she contacted Eamon?"

"You don't think she's really going to listen, do you? You saw the look in her eyes as well as I did."

"That's insane. She'll only end up getting herself captured or killed. Why would she do such a thing?"

"Because she's his Captain of the Guard. She feels honor bound to do so." Fergus answered, turning to face the ban, "And for the oldest reason of all...she's in love with him."

* * *

The Warden, Morrigan, and the rest of their group traveled out of the Korcari Wilds and headed back north, having found what they were after. They rode as fast as they could on the long trek back to the Black Warden's camp. Occasionally, though, they would have to slow their pace to a walk and let the horses recover before bolting off once again. It was during one such rest that Silas finally found the nerve to speak to the witch about something that had been bothering him.

All the members of the party, save for Morrigan and Silas, had dismounted and were leading their mounts on a steady march. The young warden walked his steed closer to the witch, who was mounted on The Warden's horse while The Warden walked in front, leading the beast by the reigns. He cast a glance over his shoulder at Silas, as if to say, _Now may not be the best time for this_. But, as was often the case, Silas failed to heed his mentor's warning.

"I'd like to ask you something." The young warden said to Morrigan.

The witch rolled her eyes and groaned, "I am hardly surprised. You wardens seem to have a keen fondness for harassing me with useless questions." she hissed.

"There's something I don't understand."

"I would imagine there are a great many things you fail to comprehend."

"If you hate me so much, then ,why did it bother when you thought I died?"

"You are important to The Warden, for some reason I cannot fathom."

"Is that the only reason?"

"Allow me to be perfectly clear, boy." Morrigan said, her tone turning deadly serious as she cast her icy stare at the young warden, "I do not like you and I certainly do not trust you. You've brought me nothing but misery since the day we first met. Were it my decision, you would have found your neck in a tight noose strung from a tree."

"I'm trying to make up for what I did."

"Have you even the slightest inkling of what you've done? 'Tis not something that can be remedied with a mere apology. Through your selfish actions, Ferelden is now within the clutches of a madman and his followers. And worst of all...they have my..." the witch paused to compose herself, "Those bastards have my son."

"But I didn't know that it would come to this. I swear I never would have agreed to help them if I knew."

"Silas didn't take our son, Morrigan. The Order did." The Warden added, looking back at his witch. "Forgiveness doesn't come easy for you, but I am asking you to try. Silas was manipulated and used."

"I fail to see how _he_ is the victim." the witch said, cocking her head and folding her arms.

"Because they knew he was mad at me somehow and used that to their advantage."

"I never thought you were evil, my lady." Silas said, trying his best to address the witch properly and not draw further ire, "But Jervik and the Black Warden convinced me that I did. They said you were nothing but a vile maleficar and that you controlled Dwemer like a puppet. But Dwemer used to talk about you all the time, so I knew you weren't really evil. But the more they talked, the more they made me believe you were. I guess part of me wanted to, because that made things a bit easier."

"You didn't think I was really going to leave, did you?" The Warden asked.

"No, I didn't." Silas admitted, "Back at Vigil's Keep, you used to talk about it all the time, but you always stayed for one reason or another. I knew you wanted to leave, I just never thought you actually _would_. When you finally did leave to go help Alistair in the rebuilding effort, I was furious. I blamed Morrigan. I knew when you left the Grey Wardens it was so you could eventually find her. You didn't have to step down as Warden Commander in order to help Alistair."

"So when you were approached by this Jervik, you were more than ready to listen." Morrigan quipped.

"I was. But I feel awful about it. I wish with everything that I could just take it all back."

"But you cannot. What's done is done."

"I'm going to prove to you that I regret what I did. I promise I'll do whatever is takes to help you get your son back."

"We shall see." was all the witch would say.

"At any rate, it'll be dark soon. We should find a place to camp for the night." The Warden said, "Everyone is probably famished."

"I know I am." Silas replied, "I'm hungry enough to eat an entire ox."

"I guess I'll have to see what I can whip up, then."

"_You_?" the young warden asked, only half believing his mentor was serious, "When did you become a chef?"

"I'm no gourmet, but I try."

"Don't be so modest." Leliana injected. Turning to face Silas, she said, "He is really quite an excellent cook."

"It would seem our brave warden's skills with a blade know no bounds, extending even into the kitchen." the elf added, "I must confess that I have a fondness for his dishes, even if they aren't Antivan."

"I did not know that." Silas said a bit surprised by the knowledge, "He never even went near the kitchen at Vigil's Keep."

"Not that you ever knew about." The Warden corrected. "So what'll it be tonight? Any suggestions?"

"I am in the mood for venison." Morrigan said, a wicked grin forming on her face, "I prefer a choice young buck, nearly in his prime. His sinews not yet toughened by the strains of adulthood." She cast her stare at the young warden, "I should think the testicles would make for a very fine stew, indeed."

Silas swallowed hard, saying nervously, "Suddenly, I'm not so hungry anymore."

* * *

Normally the march to Denerim from Redcliffe took nearly a week, but Arl Eamon pushed his soldiers so that they covered more than half the distance in just over two days. On the third day, however, a fierce storm came upon them, bringing the entire column of men to a grinding halt. All day, the torrential barrage from the heavens continued, thoroughly soaking the ground. Men were buried up to their knees in mud, the many supply carts and wagons kept getting stuck, and men had to dismount their steeds in order to keep the beasts from sinking into the muck.

As the fourth day dawned, things were just getting dry enough to permit travel. A rider approached the long column of men from the east, appearing as nothing more than a silhouette against the rising sun. Eamon squinted his eyes in the glare to better make out the figure that approached him. The rider rode their dark horse up the arl and tugged back on the reigns in an effort to get the beast to stop. Chunks and bits of mud were flung into the air when, at last, the rider was able to convince the animal to stop. The animal whinnied excitedly and puffed as it pranced in place, as if terrified. The rider reached up and pulled back the dark hood, revealing Captain Dyana.

"I've been sent by Teyrn Fergus Cousland, I'm Dyana, Captain of the Royal Guard." she said, introducing herself with a bow.

"You are known to me, captain." the arl replied, "What message do you bring?"

"I came to warn you to stay away from Denerim. The Order followed us there and were almost able to gain entrance into the city. Their army has since camped itself outside Denerim's walls."

"I was afraid something like this might happen." Eamon said as he pondered, "We'll have to find another way into the city. But how...?"

"Ban Teagan and the teyrn were..." the captain was cut short by her steed's impatient movements. She gripped the reigns tighter in her hands, saying, "They were thinking the same thing. Teyrn Fergus was working on a plan to that end. He says you should stay put until he contacts you again."

"Is there something wrong with your horse captain? It seems a bit...agitated."

"It's been a rough journey. I had to ride all the way from the coast."

"From the coast? I don't understand."

"It's a long story, my lord. The main point being that I was spotted by some of the Order's spies and their soldiers quickly tracked me down. I was able to kill most of them..."

"Riders to the east!" a man shouted.

"Apparently, you were unable to kill them all. It seems you were followed" the arl said.

Five men on horseback had just appeared on the far side of the long meadow beside the road. Seeing that their quarry had already reached the arl, they hastily turned their horses around and darted back off into the forest and disappeared from view.

"After them!" Eamon yelled, "They can't be allowed to reveal our position!"

"Yes, my lord!" one of the knights acknowledged, and with a command, he and several other knights charged out from the ranks in pursuit.

Returning his attention back to the captain, Arl Eamon said, "I will need you to carry word back to Denerim for me."

"I'm afraid I will be unable to do that, my lord. I have urgent business in the north to attend to." she replied as humbly as she could, hoping that he wouldn't insist that she return to Denerim.

"In the north? What business?"

"I need to get to Highever."

"Highever was destroyed. There's nothing left of it. What could you possibly need there?"

"I know of Highever's fate, my lord. I was there on that terrible night. But the king has been captured and it is my duty as his captain to make sure he is returned, unharmed. They'll most likely have him locked up in the castle, which was not damaged in the attack."

"I see..." Eamon said as he stroked his gray beard, "It is imperative that Alistair be freed. Ferelden has need of its king now more than ever. I will send some men to help you."

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary, my lord."

"By the Maker, are you mad, woman? There's no way you can attempt to rescue Alistair on your own."

"Its my fault he was captured. I don't want anyone else to pay for my mistakes. Besides, I've spent quite a bit of time at Castle Cousland and I am familiar with it. One person can sneak in and out much easier than a group. I beg you, my lord, allow me to do this by myself. I will succeed. I swear it." Dyana pleaded as convincingly as she could.

"Very well..." the arl relented, "But be warned, if you manage to get yourself killed, you'll have no one else to blame but yourself, captain."

"I understand, perfectly."

* * *

Alistair sat in his dank cold cell. In the wake of his escape attempt, several things had changed to ensure he would remain put. His legs and arms had been bound with shorter, yet thicker lengths of chain and neither of the new guards outside his door possessed the key to his shackles. Now, only the lieutenant in charge of the dungeon held the key. And he was safely beyond a wooden door in another part of the labyrinth beneath the castle.

The king could swear his ears were bleeding after having just been subjected to another long lecture by Denolian. This time, the desire demon accompanied him, as she had on one other occasion. And as before, she said nothing, merely looking at Alistair with a cold and expressionless face while the priest talked at length in his silvery smooth voice. The king had to admit that Denolian was quite convincing with his argument. It was easy to see why so many had fallen under his spell. Had Alistair not known the priest's true nature, he could have easily been swayed. But he knew that Denolian was nothing but an insane megalomaniac, hellbent on destroying Ferelden with his twisted schemes.

There was no way Denolian was going to convince Alistair that all the evils in the land were solely his fault. He never thought of himself as a perfect ruler by any means, but he was a good deal better than he thought he'd be, actually surprising himself as Eamon said he would. And seeing as how he really hadn't been king all that long, he felt he was good enough and he was getting better every day. Someday he might even make for a great king, one worthy of mention centuries later. That is, if he could ever get out of the cell he was in and escape.

At last, the priest had winded himself and run out of long and fancy words to say. He turned to leave and one of the guards quickly opened the wooden door for him. The demon still stood there, looking at Alistair as if she was pondering something. Alistair could swear that there was some kind of internal struggle going on inside her.

"Coming, my dear?" Denolian asked in his soothing voice.

"Oh...yes." the demon answered, her attention coming back to focus.

And after the two had left, the king was left there alone with his thoughts and ears that he was convinced were bleeding. There was something going on in the demon's head, and if Alistair could figure out just what it was, he might be able to exploit it.

* * *

"That's far enough!" a gruff man ordered The Warden and his companions as they approached the edge of the Black Warden's encampment. He was joined by another man and they were both heavily armed, apparently on guard duty. "Who goes there?"

"Tell your master I've returned. I have what he wants." The Warden said, issuing his own orders to the men.

"Come with me." the guard returned and headed further into the camp, leading The Warden and the others to the front of a large round white tent. "I'm sorry to disturb you, my lord..." the man called out to the tent nervously.

"What is it?" a voiced boomed from inside, followed by a child's giggle.

"Seth!" Morrigan gasped upon hearing her son.

"The Warden and his comrades have returned. He says he's got the amulet with him." the guard replied.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Show The Warden and his lovely bride in." the voice from the tent commanded.

"Alright, go in, but leave your weapons." the guard ordered as he held out his hand. Both The Warden and his witch removed their blades and handed them to the guard who, in turn, handed them to another man for safe keeping.

Not waiting for the guard to do it for him, The Warden impatiently grabbed the cloth covering the entrance and tossed it aside. Both the witch and The Warden stormed into the tent quickly, but as the others tried to follow they were met with crossed blades barring their passage.

"Oh, No you don't." another of the guards said, "He said just them two. You'll have to wait out here."

The interior of the tent was well furnished, but not lavish. There was some chairs and a small table, and just beyond the support pole in the center, there were two bedrolls laid out. The Black Warden was sitting in one of the chairs with Seth straddling his knee while he held the tot's tiny hands in his own. The child squealed and giggled loudly as the dark man playfully bounced the child up and down.

"We did what you asked. I've got your damned amulet. Now give me back my son." The Warden huffed with deep hatred in his voice.

"Look who's come back." The Black Warden said, his focus still on the child.

"What do you call yourself doing with my son, you bastard?" the witch fumed, her fists clenched tightly beside her.

"Oh, Seth and I were just having a bit of fun, that's all." the Black Warden replied while a wry grin formed somewhere underneath his dark hood, "Weren't we, my boy?".

"Get your filthy hands away from my son!" The Warden shouted, startling the boy. Seth jumped as he turned to face the direction of the sound. And as before, when he saw his father his little toddler face scrunched up in confusion.

The Warden reached into a pouch tied to his belt and withdrew the Eye of Arvisarok. "Here's the amulet. Now give me my son."

"How do I know that item is authentic?" the dark warden asked, unconvinced. "I gave you a week and it only took you four days. It seems likely you could have purchased this bauble in an attempt to fool me."

Instantly, the witch's hands went to her hips and she said, "'Tis the genuine article, of that you can be assured. We risked our lives in acquiring it."

"A deal is a deal and until I'm convinced that's the real amulet, I'm not returning your son. Let me examine it for myself."

The Warden looked over at Morrigan. They both knew what a huge risk handing over the amulet was, but under the circumstances it seemed that they had little choice. "Fine." The Warden said as he reached out his hand and dropped the amulet into the Black Warden's waiting palm.

After giving the amulet a long examination under the light of the lamp, the Black Warden concluded, "This is the Eye of Arvisarok, alright. I have to say I really am amazed that you got it so fast."

"You have what you wanted. Now give us back our child." The Warden said.

"Oh...about that. I think I've changed my mind."

"What?" Morrigan asked, her heart nearly leaping from her chest, "We had an agreement. The amulet for my son."

"To tell you the truth, I really did intend on giving you your boy back, but I've gotten pretty fond of him. Having him around should prove to be very useful. And, as you can tell, he's taken a liking to me, as well. But, then again, he always did know who his true father was." The Black Warden explained as he slowly pulled back the dark hood, revealing his face.

Morrigan let out a gasp of disbelief when she saw her husband's face on the man sitting in the chair with her son. "How is this possible?" she asked.

"That, my lady, is quite a long tale. And, unfortunately I don't have the time at present. Now, if you'll excuse us, my new son and I have some bonding to do."

"Deceiver! I shall tear out your heart!" the witch cried out in anger, preparing to change her form into something more vicious.

"Not a wise idea while I hold the boy, don't you think?" The Black Warden cautioned, before calling out to the guards.

Instantly six large men rushed into the room and surrounded the couple, the ends of their blades pointed straight at Morrigan and The Warden.

"Please escort our guest out." the dark warden ordered his men, then turned his attention back to Seth as if they were alone in the room.

The guards moved in closer and forcefully prodded the pair out the tent. "I'll be back, you son of a bitch." The Warden promised while his eyes seethed with hatred, "This isn't over."

"Of course its over, Warden." the Black Warden replied nonchalantly, "It was over before you even started."


	22. Chapter 22

**Part XXII**

Fortunately for Dyana, the sky, while clear and starry, was moonless. It made her approach to the castle's fringes unseen far easier than it would have been otherwise. She had ditched her horse a mile or so back, choosing to sneak the rest of the way on foot under the cover of darkness. She crouched in the tall grass just beyond the castle walls and watched the guards as they patrolled the castle's perimeter. The torches cast long shadows on the ground as the soldiers marched in steady intervals around and through the main gate, spurred on by their commander who shouted orders from high atop the castle wall. With every order he gave, his breath puffed out white clouds into the air in the chilly night.

"Too tall..." Dyana mumbled to herself while she patiently observed the guards, waiting for just the right one. "Too fat..." she mumbled again.

When, at last, a soldier fitting her needs strolled near the captain, she hid low in the grass. Dyana reached down and scooped up a large rock in her hand and readied herself to pounce, all the while the guard crept closer to her position. He was only about thirty yards from her hiding spot when he abruptly changed direction and began to head away.

Fearing she may lose her chance, Dyana popped up for her concealment and flung the stone at the soldier as hard as she could. The captain's aim was less than true, however, and the rock went sailing over the guard's left shoulder and struck the ground in front of him with a loud _thud_!

Instantly the man swung about on his heels and shouted, "Who goes there?"

"_Shit_!" Dyana huffed under her breath and quickly ducked back down into the grass.

"I know your out there!" the soldier shouted, starting towards her position once again as he drew his blade and began poking it around in the grass. "You better come out if you know what's good for you." he warned.

Dyana's heart beat fast and hard in her chest while her mind raced, trying to come up with solutions. She could kill the man, but his cries might alert others, in addition she needed his attire to be undamaged, otherwise it would be of no use to her. A blade to the belly was certainly out of the question. It could force her to wait hours for the right candidate to again come along before she had another chance. That left Dyana with only one thing left to do.

"Oh! You startled me!" she cried out as she rose from her place.

The guard stepped back a bit, surprised by the captain's sudden appearance. "Who are you and what're you doing here?" he said as he pointed the tip of his sword at her.

"I'm nobody important." she replied, attempting to make her eyes as big and round as she could, "I'm just a helpless girl whose wagon broke down up the road." she said, batting her eyelashes.

"What are you doing by the castle, then?" the man asked, his tone unchanged.

"I told you. My wagon broke down and I got lost wandering in the darkness trying to find help." the captain lied as she took slow and deliberate steps towards the guard. She arched her back and stuck out her chest, trying to make her breasts as inviting as possible.

"What were you doing out in a wagon at this time of night?"

"I was bringing supplies to the castle." the captain purred as she twirled strands of her long brown hair in her fingers.

"I don't buy it." the man said, shoving his blade in closer, "And you can stop with the helpless damsel act, too. I don't go for your type."

"My type? What type is that?"

"Women."

The captain tripped and nearly fell over when he said it, but quickly composed herself. "Oh, well in that case..." she said and brought her knee up against the man's groin with all the force she could muster.

A loud "Ooomphf!" escaped the man and he fell to the ground, rolling around in the fetal position and whimpering.

Quickly, the captain grabbed the guard's blade and removed his helmet. With a swift blow from the pommel to the back of the guard's head, he went limp. As fast as she could, she removed the man's clothing and leather armor. Crouching down in the grass she undressed and hastily donned the man's clothes and gear. She stood from the tall grass and placed the man's helm down over head, the visor swung shut. Dyana sheathed the blade against her side, and cast a long look at the castle in front of her. With a heavy sigh she convinced her feet to carry her to the large metal and wooden gate.

Just near the main gate, the captain ducked behind some bushes that grew up against the castle wall. She hid while she waited for one of the lines of soldiers to march back into the castle, having just come back from a patrol. While the main forces were with General Regorda in the east, there were still several thousand soldiers present at Castle Cousland. Just as the last soldier in line passed by the captain, she hopped out from her hiding spot and quickly jumped in line behind the last soldier, hoping he wouldn't notice her.

The soldier in front of Dyana was either unaware of her presence or uncaring and made no indications he'd seen her, while the column marched into the castle and up the wide path towards the courtyard. The line of men marched single-file up the slope of the hillside into the courtyard and around towards the back, heading to the barracks. Dyana broke away from the rest of the guards with slow, quiet movements, and climbed the stone steps to the main door. She cautiously swung the door open and stepped inside, hoping her disguise would be enough to get her passed any more guards she was sure to find.

She walked passed the two sentinels guarding the door, who, if they suspected anything, gave no sign, and walked into the grand foyer. From the foyer she headed east, down a long corridor that went passed the kitchen and finally ending at the door to the castle cellars and dungeon. Dyana figured that was the best place to start looking for Alistair and since there only a few cells he should be easy to find.

Just as the captain rounded the final turn, the wooden door at the end of the hall burst open. Four large and well armored men who were escorting a slender man in white robes and a desirable woman with long blond hair appeared from the dark stairs to the lower levels and were coming down the hallway. Dyana noticed the other soldiers stationed at various points in the corridor had snapped to attention and stood stiff and rigid until the group was by. Desperately not wanting to draw attention to herself, she mimicked the others and quickly stood at attention looking straight ahead and frozen in place.

As she hoped, the couple and their escorts walked by Dyana without so much as glancing in her direction. He seemed to be too busy babbling about something and the woman looked as though she were deep in thought, almost troubled. The captain relaxed her body with a sigh of relief as she watched the procession round the turn in the corridor. Suddenly, though, to the captain's horror, the woman just stopped in her tracks.

"Is something troubling you my dear?" the slender man said.

"No. I'm alright. You go on ahead. I'll be right there." the woman answered and cast a glance over her shoulder, directly at Dyana.

Dyana's heart froze solid in her chest as she watched the woman take slow strides in her direction. Any and all hopes that the woman was going to another of the guards quickly melted when she stopped in front of the captain and asked, "You're new here aren't you?"

"I've been here a while but you probably haven't seen me because I'm always out on patrol." Dyana tried to lie as convincingly as she could.

"Is that so?" the woman replied, "Come with me. I have a job for you."

A jolt ran through Dyana as she stammered, "Uhm...but I...Uh.."

"Whatever you were doing before can wait. Follow me." the woman insisted.

The captain did her best not to appear nervous as the woman led them down the corridor, to another part of the castle. They took the stairs to the second floor and followed the hall all the way to the back, finally ending up at what used to be the teyrn's personal quarters. It was apparent that someone important had taken the chambers as their own. The door was guarded by two more large men who bowed to the woman when they saw her. One of them even opened the door for her.

Beckoning for the captain to follow, the woman went inside. She went over to the far side of the room, around the huge and ornately carved large wooden desk. "Wait there." she said to Dyana.

The captain couldn't see clearly what the woman was doing as her back was turned toward Dyana. But it appeared as though she was putting something inside of something else, and after a moment, the woman turned back around holding a small sealed envelope in her hand.

"Take this to the dungeon and give it to the king." she said, holding out the envelope, "Tell the lieutenant you were sent by the Angel. He'll allow you to pass."

The captain's hand nervously took the envelope, her trembling fingers nearly dropping it. She stood there for a minute, looking at the small paper envelope in her hand.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" the woman asked, "Go give it to him."

"Right away." Dyana replied as confidently as she could while she turned and rushed out the door.

The captain hurried back down the corridor, not believing her luck. Whoever the woman was, she was an important enough figure to have given Dyana a free pass to visit the king. Her attempt to free Alistair might not have been going quite as planned, but at this point the captain decided it would probably be best not to question things. Once more she rounded the final turn in the hallway and approached the wooden door at the end. She opened the door and rushed down the twisting stairs to the chambers below.

"Halt!" a young man with a scar on his left cheek shouted as the captain reached the bottom of the stairs, "No one's permitted down here without orders."

"The angel sent me to give a message to the king." Dyana said, holding out the envelope for the lieutenant to see.

The man eyed the envelope suspiciously, rubbing his chin as he thought. "Alright, I guess. But they were just down here. She could've given it to him then." the lieutenant grumbled as he walked over to a thick wooden door that was reinforced with metal bands. Taking a keyring from a hook on his belt, he unlocked the door and pulled it open, saying, "In ya go, but be quick about it."

Dyana didn't hesitate and quickly walked through the door and into the dungeon beyond. There were few torches hung and the lighting inside was dim and the smell of mold permeated the air. Her eyes scanned the insides of the cells as she followed the narrow walkway between them. She was greeted to one unfamiliar face after the next, until she finally saw one she recognized.

"Your majesty!" she called out to a man shackled against the back of his cell with thick heavy chains.

"Dyana, is that you?" Alistair responded, instantly perking up.

"I've come to get you out of here."

"It's about bloody time. Where's The Warden?"

"He's not with me, your majesty. I came on my own."

"Are you mad? You're lucky you didn't get yourself killed."

"Why does everyone keep saying that? I made it this far, didn't I?"

"True..." the king reluctantly admitted, "Now hurry up and get me out of here."

"I'm working on that part." The captain muttered while she inspected the lock on the cell door, "This might take a minute. I don't have my lock picking tools with me."

"Maker's breath, why not?" Alistair huffed, "Did you figure they'd have me in an unlocked room?"

"I was hoping to steal the keys off the guard, but I haven't gotten that far yet." Dyana explained.

"What's that in your hand? An envelope?"

"Oh, this? I almost forgot about it. A woman with blond hair gave this to me and said I was to give it to you."

"What's in it?"

"I don't know. I didn't look."

"Well, in case you didn't notice, my hands are a bit occupied at the moment. Open it and see what's inside."

Dyana flipped the small envelope open and dumped the contents out into her palm. Two shiny keys fell out of the paper and into her hand. "You have to be kidding me." the captain gasped.

"Are those keys?" Alistair asked, poking his head up trying to get a better view.

"They are. But I don't know what they go to."

"I see one thing you can try them out on." the king said as he nodded towards the cell door.

"I couldn't be that easy..." Dyana said as she took one of the keys and inserted it into the lock on the steel door. A distinct click was heard as she turned the key, and with a tug, the cell door swung open.

"Quickly! See if one of those will unlock these chains." Alistair said, becoming excited and ready to be free of his bounds.

And sure enough, the second key fit perfectly into the lock binding the king's shackles in place. With a quick turn of the captain's wrist, the lock popped open, freeing Alistair's hands. She undid the remaining locks as fast as she could and soon all of Alistair's restraints had been removed. He rubbed his wrists, enjoying the feeling of blood flowing uninhibited into his extremities once more.

"I think we should leave." Dyana suggested while she ushered the king from the cell and back down the pathway between the row of cells.

"Morrigan used the western part of the cellar for her studies. There's steps that lead to the outside. We can get to it through that door." Alistair said as he pointed to a door on the far wall.

The pair scrambled through the door, down a cramped passage, and through another door, before finally arriving in the western cellar. The faint glow from the magical barrier protecting the Orbs of Arastani washed the room in a soft light. Everything was exactly as the witch had left it. Alistair looked down at the cot that was still in the same place Morrigan had dragged it the day she gave him the sleeping potion. Volumes of books lie scattered on the several tables, some of them still opened to the pages the witch was reading. The king was much relieved to see the Order hadn't found this chamber yet. If they were to get their hands on the orbs somehow, it could make things ten times worse than they already were.

"Hurry!" Dyana urged as she and Alistair climbed the few steps to the exterior cellar doors. Both of them placed their hands against the door above them and gave a hard push, but the door refused to budge. It seemed the door was locked from the outside. Even if the captain has her lock picks, or even another key, they would have done no good. They were trapped.

"Do you hear that?" Alistair asked, listening intently.

"I do. What do you think it is?"

"Someone is on the other side of the door."

There were several thumps, then a click, followed by the sound of a chain being pulled through something and tossed on the ground. And then, with a creaking whine, the cellar doors began to swing open.

"Stand back." Alistair said as he stepped in front of the captain, readying himself for whoever it was opening the door.

"I believe its _my_ job to protect _you_." the captain replied as she stepped around him.

The doors opened wide, revealing the woman with the long blond hair standing at the top of the stairs. "There you are." she said, "It took you long enough."

"What? I don't understand." the befuddled captain said, "You're helping us? But why?"

"There's no time to explain." the woman said as her outline began to fade and form into something else, revealing her true identity: the desire demon. "But when you see The Warden tell him what I've done to help you."

"Your actually risking yourself to save us? Demons don't help people. Why are you doing this?" Alistair asked.

"For the best reason of all, your majesty: self preservation." the demon answered with a small grin, "I've seen into The Warden's mind. I know he won't rest until he's killed Denolian. I don't wish to end up as one of his victims."

"How did you know I was trying to rescue the king?" the astonished captain inquired.

"Your thoughts told me all I needed to know. Enough questions. You must hurry." the demon replied as she urged the captain and Alistair up the steps and out into the night air. "Get as far from here as you can. It won't take long before they know you've escaped."

Sticking to the shadows, Dyana and Alistair crept around the castle to one of the small entrances into the inside of the stone wall surrounding the castle and out through another door on the opposite side. They scurried down the hill and across the meadow before finally reaching the safety of the trees and disappearing into the forest.

* * *

The Warden and the witch walked in silence since leaving the Black Warden's camp without their son. They both suspected the Black Warden would renege on his end of the bargain, but that didn't make it any less painful. The only thing Morrigan wanted was to have her son back, whatever the cost. The Warden, however, knew things weren't so simple. The whole reason the Order kidnapped Seth in the first place wasn't to force The Warden into finding the Eye of Arvisarok as much as it was to control him and keep his blades far from the real threat.

And as the pair walked, The Warden thought about how they came to be in their present situation and, more importantly, how to get out of it. He concluded the reasons for Denolian's successes were because he had become too predictable, always playing the part of the hero, just as Morrigan said. The dragon, the demon, and everything else that happened was because he recklessly protected those around him. But Denolian was no fool. The priest had scripted all the previous events based on how The Warden would react to them. And each time Denolian had been completely correct. To defeat the Order, The Warden was going to have to totally change his tactics and do something completely unexpected. He would have to reinvent to rules of the game. And he had just the thing in mind. Morrigan's thoughts, on the other hand, came to a completely different conclusion.

"I shall kill that brother of yours when I see him. 'Tis entirely his fault Seth was abducted." Morrigan said with venom dripping from her words.

"How is this Fergus' fault? It's not like he just handed Seth over to them." The Warden replied.

"I entrusted your brother with our child, but he proved incapable of that simple task. Twas his irresponsible nature, a trait you both share, that is to blame."

"So he's supposed to set aside all his duties as teyrn to look after Seth? That's not very realistic."

"Are you saying 'tis I who is to blame, then?"

"Where did you get that idea? I didn't say anything of the sort."

"Because, twas I who left our son in Fergus' care, thinking, for some strange reason, that he would be safe in a castle filled with knights."

"No, Morrigan, it's not your fault either. It's Denolian and the Black Warden's fault."

"So you keep saying, but what good has that done?" the witch quipped while her mood grew more impatient, "Seth is still held captive by that vile man and is minions and we are no closer to having him back than when we started."

"Morrigan, we'll get him back. I promise." he assured, gently caressing her shoulder.

The witch jerked away from his touch, shouting, "Do not touch me! I am in no mood for your feeble attempts to placate."

"Morrigan..."

"No, dammit! I want my son back!" Morrigan yelled as her long pent up frustration and anger finally boiled over, "You promised me you would always keep us safe, but where are your brave words now?"

"Coming unhinged isn't going to help us any." he said trying to be as calm and reasonable as he could.

"I do not care! I want my son back!" the witch huffed, "Those bastards...those bastards have my baby...they have my baby..."

Morrigan buried her face in her hands and fell to her knees, while all the stress and worry over her son consumed her and she began sobbing. The others in the party tried their best to ignore the awkward scene and look away from the woman weeping heavily in front of them, while The Warden did the only thing he could think to do. He knelt beside his witch in the dirt and held her close to him. She tried to shy away from him at first; her shame and anger nearly too much to bear. But, as always, she soon accepted his support and shared her sorrow with him.

"It's going to be alright." he whispered to her, "We'll get Seth back. Everything is going to be fine. You'll see"

"How are you able to say such things?" she asked.

"Because I'm done doing their bidding. It's time we started making them play by our rules."

"You have a plan, then?"

"I do. We're going to get our son back and make them pay for what they've done."

"How do you intend on doing this?"

"So far, Denolian has known everything I was going to do before I did it. But this time, what I have in mind he'll never see coming. He expects me to act like a Grey Warden, but I'm going to do something no warden would ever even consider."

"What have you in mind?" the witch asked.

"We're going to save our son and then we're going to enlist the aid of an army they'll never suspect."

"Who might that be?"

"The darkspawn." he answered, calmly.


	23. Chapter 23

_Now that the Witch Hunt DLC has been released, my stories have officially become AU. I knew it would happen sooner or later and I am pleased that, while I might not have gotten the specifics right, I was a lot closer with the general idea than I thought I would be when it came to Flemeth and the god-child._

_Unfortunately though, Witch Hunt sucked, as I feared it would. To me, it was nothing more than a lame attempt to tie DA in with DA2. There was so much more they could have done with the characters without revealing anything for the next game. It was like being invited to a free steak dinner but all you get are small appetizers, instead. But what's done is done._

_Either way, the only thing Witch Hunt did was inspire me to write more. I'll still try to keep everything as canonical as possible, even though it's essentially moot at this point. But having you guys feel like this is the way things could (should) have happened is important, so it still has to feel like Ferelden. _

_Bioware had a chance to take this story to the HNL (hole nutha level ) but failed miserably in order to move on to the next cash cow. What I don't understand is, why did we have to wait a year when they could have just added the little bit Witch Hunt offered to the end of Dragon Age: Origins? The only conclusion I can come up with is that Bioware isn't all that interested in my money, because they'll certainly never get anymore coin from me. I'm burnt on them. Anyway, enough of my babbling. Sorry for the interruption and I seriously hope you all enjoy the rest of Black Warden. Thanks again for reading._

**Part XXIII**

It had been over a week since Fergus and Teagan sealed themselves and their army inside the city of Denerim and out of reach of the army that was camped outside the great city's walls. With each new day that dawned, both the teyrn and ban believed an attack was more likely than the last. Barricades and checkpoints were erected all over the city in an attempt to fortify their positions as well as weed out any hidden members the Order might have, which was proving to be far easier said than done. Those who didn't flee to the south when they had the chance now faced the uncertainty of life in a city under siege. Most residents were starting to think that if they did somehow manage to survive, their lives would never be normal again.

Food and other critical supplies were beginning to run low, forcing the teyrn to institute rationing of what little was left. Some were starting to get sick, but there were precious few medicines to go around. The priests of the chantry did what they could to ease the suffering of the populace and held daily sermons that preached hope and patience, but many of the people were starting to succumb to the pressure and the only prayers they offered were pleas of a quick and painless death for them and their families.

There was small hope of things getting better anytime soon. Even though Fergus managed to sneak Dyana out of the city to deliver a message to Arl Eamon, there was no way of knowing whether he received it or not. The fact that the arl hadn't arrived with his knights was the only sign that the captain might have been successful. But then again, the Order of Bohlen could have already wiped out Eamon and his men. Fergus, however, chose to believe his message got through and that the arl and his knights were awaiting further word from teyrn.

Getting Eamon and his men into the city, though, was another matter entirely. As soon as the arl's small army was spotted, the Order would surely attack and obliterate them. Eamon 's forces would have to somehow sneak into Denerim unnoticed by the Order, but the teyrn still had no clue how to accomplish such a feat. He would have to think of a way fast, though. If Eamon's men were really somewhere beyond the city, as Fergus suspected, it was only a matter of time before their luck ran out and they were spotted, and, more importantly, the teyrn's army desperately needed the reinforcements if they were to have any hope of fending off the would-be invaders.

Atop his perch on the allure above the thick city wall, Fergus again watched the members of the Order, wondering to himself what their plan was. While it appeared that the red-robed soldiers were not doing anything suspicious, the teyrn knew better. They were plotting and scheming something most foul. He was sure of it. But nothing he saw gave him even the slightest indication of what the Order was up to. The only odd thing of note was a newly erected tent in the middle of their encampment. All day Fergus watched as men went inside but none ever came back out. The tent, itself, was not very large and couldn't possibly be able to hold all the men he saw entering it. The teyrn wondered how they all managed to fit inside. He suspected there might be a hidden exit on the far side of the tent, away from his view, but the more he thought about it, the more Fergus deemed it to be unlikely. All those men had to be going somewhere, he figured. The question was where. Then, like a bolt out of the blue, it hit him. A shiver ran down Fergus' spine when he realized what was happening. A single horrifying thought shot through his mind: _They're tunneling underground!_

* * *

The Black Warden and his men broke camp and began the long journey north back to Castle Cousland, where Denolian had setup his headquarters. Now that they possessed the Eye of Arvisarok, they would be able to fulfill their destiny as the rightful heirs to Andraste's legacy and bring about a new "Golden Age" to Ferelden. At least that's what the ignorant masses were led to believe. The truth, however, was far from the glorious crusade that the Order was preaching to it's many followers: Denolian intended to transform the land into hell on earth. Not just Ferelden, either. Denolian wanted nothing less than to have the entire world firmly and unquestionably in his grasp. Only the demon and Black Warden were aware of the mad priest's true intentions. Not even General Regorda knew what he was helping to unleash.

The so-called pious and holy were nothing more than easily manipulated puppets who would do anything asked of them, if given the right motivation. They were predictable and mindless servants who were more concerned with their immortal souls than what was going on around them in the here-and-now. They were filled with hate towards anything different from themselves; be it a person, an image, or even a thought. Family ties and friendships were quickly cast aside for the sake of blind faith. As a result, it was a relatively easy task to whip them into a seething frenzy and unleash them upon the lands.

The dark figure chuckled to himself at how easily everything had come together. He knew exactly how to motivate those around him, either through simple convincing or by coercion. He was a natural leader. That was precisely why Denolian had come to him in the first place. The priest needed a figure that the masses would rally around without question or hesitation and the Black Warden served that purpose masterfully. Those in his charge admired him as greatly as Ferelden adored it's precious Grey Warden.

As he was walking off into the woods to find a secluded spot where he might be able to relieve himself, the Black Warden saw a small sparrow perched in one of the branches of a thick elm tree. The tiny bird seemed to be watching him intently in return as it hopped from branch to branch in order to get a better view of the man in the long black robes. He stopped and looked straight at the bird with a knowing grin.

"You might as well drop the facade, witch." he said to it, "I know it's you."

The bird gave a startled chirp and dropped down from its place in the tree to the leaf-covered forest floor. A soft glow began to radiate from the tiny creature and its outline began to grow and change shape accompanied by a flash of bright light that caused the Black Warden to shield his eyes. When the change was complete, Morrigan stood in front of him.

"How did you know 'twas I?" the witch asked.

"I know everything _he_ does." he replied.

An uncomfortable shudder ran through the witch, "Everything? How is that possible?" she asked.

"Don't you recognize your own husband when you see him?" he asked return.

"_You_ are not my husband." she stated flatly.

"Oh, but I am. In more ways than you know."

"Explain yourself." Morrigan demanded.

"The Warden is a special man, but you already know that. But what you don't know is how unique he..._we_ are. He's the only mortal who isn't a mage that has freely traversed the Fade and understood it for what it is. But as you know, the Fade is a strange place with its own set of rules." he explained as he slowly stepped closer to Morrigan, all the while staring her straight in the eyes, "Mages know those rules and how to abide by them. But the Grey Warden did not. When he first traveled to there to face the sloth demon he left an imprint of himself in the fabric of the Fade, an imprint that grew more defined with each subsequent visit. Everything that he is was left behind, until eventually, that imprint formed its own consciousness and will."

"So you are nothing more than a shadow of him."

"Oh, I am far more than a mere shadow." he said as he stood in front of her, his face barely inches from hers, "I am what he could have been. What he _should_ have been. And make no mistake, I know you as well as he does."

"You know nothing." the witch quipped with folded arms.

"I know I'm the man you wish he was; unfettered by emotional attachments, with true power and the respect it commands." he said as he continued to move in closer.

"His emotions give him strength."

"His emotions are a weakness. You know that as well as I do. You let him push his weak ideals on you and let them change you. It's time to stop pretending to be something you're not."

"What are you saying?"

"You know exactly what I'm saying, Morrigan. Your place is at my side, not his. Come with me and we will rule this land together. We will strike fear into the hearts of our enemies and crush them into dust. Besides, my son is going to need his mother."

"_Your_ son?"

"Seth is as much my child as he is your warden's. You and I will raise him to be the greatest conqueror this world has ever known. What do you say?"

"I...I..." the witch stammered as if consumed by some great internal debate.

Suddenly, a loud _thump_ rang out. The Black Warden's eyes rolled backwards in his head and he fell over to the ground, unconscious. Behind him was Leliana who held a large branch in her hand. The bard was able to sneak up behind him while the witch kept him distracted.

"The answer is _no_." Morrigan said as she bent down to remove the Black Warden's thick robe and cowl.

The Warden, Silas, and Zevran, appeared from behind the bushes, grabbed the Black Warden by his ankles, and dragged him into the thick hedge and out of view while Leo bounced around, excited by all the activity.

"Hurry, my love." Morrigan said as she tossed the robe to The Warden, "We've little time. They will no doubt soon realize something is amiss."

The Warden wrapped himself in the long fabric, all the while staring down at the man laying out cold on the ground at his feet. The Warden was amazed as how much the Black Warden resembled him. Not just his face, but his height, and build as well. His body even bore the exact same scars that The Warden, himself, had. It was like he was looking at himself from the outside. It was an eerie feeling that The Warden didn't much care for.

"Why not just kill him now and be done with it?" the elf asked.

"As much as I would derive great pleasure from his death, we need to find out what all he knows." Morrigan explained, "Then we shall kill him."

Once he donned the Black Warden's robe, The Warden pulled the dark cowl over his face and turned to head to where the the Black Warden's men waited. "Be ready to go as soon as I return." he said.

"Do not tarry." the witch cautioned.

"I'll be as quick as I can." he replied.

The Warden emerged from the cover of the trees and into view of the red robed men who sat atop their steeds along the main road. He scanned the entire formation of men with a keen eye, looking for his son. The riderless black horse at the front of the line he reckoned was the Black Warden's steed. Just behind it was a large man on a white horse who held the small boy in front of him in the saddle. Much to The Warden's relief, Seth appeared unharmed and was actually in a happy mood; patting the beast on which he sat and stroking its long mane.

"Da!" the child called out gleefully when he saw the man in the long black robes.

The Warden put his boot in the stirrup of the lead horse and pulled himself onto the saddle. "Bring the child to me." he commanded to the man behind him.

"My lord?" the man asked with a confused look.

"You heard me."

"Yes, my lord." the man replied and moved his steed next to The Warden's.

Holding out his arms to the boy, The Warden urged Seth to come to him, which the boy did, excitedly jumping into his father's arms. It took all the resolve The Warden could muster to keep from squeezing the child to his breast as tightly as he could. Instead, he gently whispered into the boy's ear, "There's my big man. I've missed you so much."

With a quick kick of his heels, The Warden spurred the beast into motion, saying, "The rest of you wait here. I'll be back shortly."

The other men were left with puzzled looks as The Warden trotted back off into the brush on the horse with Seth. He guided the animal through the tangled growth that grew along the roadside and back to the small clearing where Morrigan and the others waited.

Upon seeing her son, the witch immediately ran up to the horse. Without waiting for The Warden to dismount, she snatched the child from his lap and held him against her breast. The weight of the world lifted from her as she held her son and nuzzled against his soft black hair. Unable to control the emotions that coursed through her, the witch's eyes once again welled up with tears.

"Mom'er sad?" the toddler asked.

"No, my darling." she said to him as she held him tight to her, "I've never been happier."

The Warden dismounted his beast and joined the witch and Seth, wrapping his arms around both of them. The others in the group stood silent while the couple enjoyed the first joyful moments they had in quite some time, while the mabari jumped in circles around them barking loudly.

"Puppy!" the child exclaimed, reaching his tiny hands out to the dog.

"Shush, Leo!" The Warden ordered, fearful the noise would attract the attention of the soldiers waiting on the road. "We need to get moving before we're spotted."

"What do we do with him?" Leliana asked, gesturing towards the unconscious Black Warden laying on the ground.

"Make sure he's bound securely and toss him over the horse. I have some questions I want answered when he comes to." The Warden replied.

From behind, the sound of rustling bushes and the crunch of dry leaves underfoot alerted them to someone's approach. The Warden signaled for the others to quickly dart back behind the shrubs and out of sight. He pulled the dark hood back over his head and waited for whoever it was to reveal themselves. And, as if on cue, one of the Black Warden's men stepped from the forest and into the clearing.

"I told you to wait for me." The Warden said, trying his best to mimic the Black Warden's harsh tone.

"I'm sorry, my lord, but we heard barking." the man replied nervously, "Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine. Now go back to the road and wait for me as I said."

"Yes, my lord." the soldier replied with a quick bow. He started to turn back the way he came, but stopped, almost as if something looked out of place to him, "Where's the boy?"he asked.

"That's none of your concern. Now do as I command."

"Yes, ser. I meant no disrespect." the man said with another, deeper bow and once again turned to head back to the road.

But, as luck would have it, the Black Warden began to regain consciousness with a loud groan. Behind the bushes, the others did their best to quickly stifle the noise. They struggled to gag and bind him, but it was no use. The soldier heard the sound.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Nothing. Now go back with the others and wait. Don't make me have to tell you again." The Warden warned.

Behind the scrub, the Black Warden wrestled with the elf, bard, and younger warden in an effort to get free. The sounds of the struggle caused the soldier to pause once more. Having no other options left, The Warden drew his blade and thrust it into the belly of the man while he placed his hand over the soldier's mouth to muffle the poor man's cries. With a thud, the soldier's body hit the ground and his life drained from him, a look of shock and surprise forever etched into his face.

Unable to contain his excitement at the actions going on around him, Leo once again broke into a loud fit of barking. And if that wasn't bad enough, during the struggle the Black Warden managed to free one of his hands and quickly snatched the rag that covered his mouth and pulled it free. He scampered from behind the bush, trying to undo the rest of the rope that bound him.

"The Grey Warden is trying to make off with the child!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, "Stop him you fools!"

If there was any doubt the men waiting on the road had heard all the commotion, it soon evaporated when their shouts could clearly be heard by The Warden and his companions. The robed men charged into the thick underbrush with weapons drawn and at the ready, heeding their master's call for aid. Morrigan and the others rushed out from their hiding spot and prepared themselves to meet the foe head-on.

"Time to go!" The Warden shouted as the first of the Black Warden's men burst from the forest and into the small clearing. "Morrigan, we need a distraction."

"Take Seth!" she shouted, handing the confused child to his father.

The witch raised her hands above her head and her entire body began to glow. Soon, the witch's form was replaced by that of a giant spider nearly six feet across; deadly venom dripping from her dagger-like fangs. The sight alone was enough to send terror into the hearts of both beast and man and the horses reared up, refusing to go anywhere near the horrifying creature. The witch pounced on the horse nearest to her and sank her deadly fangs deep into it's neck while it toppled over to the ground, throwing its rider, who jumped up from the ground and bolted off into the woods, terrified.

Unnoticed by the soldiers, who were otherwise occupied by the giant spider, The Warden, with Seth in his arms, darted into the dense forest, followed by Leliana, Zevran, Silas, and Leo. Morrigan stayed behind and engaged the robed men long enough for the others to make their escape. When she was confident they had gotten far enough away to avoid pursuit, her giant arachnid body began to glow once more. With another bright flash of light, the witch changed from the giant spider into her bird form and flew off in the direction The Warden and the others went.

"After them!" the Black Warden commanded.

"But my lord..." one of the men said, "We already have the Eye, we have no further use for the boy."

"You fool!" The dark figure exclaimed, "That child is the only thing keeping The Warden from ruining everything! I want him found and brought back. Is that clear?"

"Y..yes, my lord." the man awkwardly stammered and ran off into the forest along with the rest of the red-robed men.

The Black Warden knew, perhaps better than anyone else, what drove The Grey Warden to go to the lengths he did in order to accomplish his goals. It wasn't to acquire fame or glory, even though he possessed both in abundance. It was an never ending struggle to prove his self-worth. Unlike most others, The Warden actually strove to live up to his own lofty ideals, preferring to lead by example rather than the more typical "do as I say and not as I do" outlook. He didn't do the heroic deeds he became known for because some being in the sky was watching him and he sought salvation. He did them because he solidly believed they were the right things to do. And such men, the Black Warden thought, were the most dangerous of all. They would not bend and could not be bought. The dark man knew The Warden would freely give his life if it meant others would be saved from harm, no matter how bleak the odds. That attitude, combined with his deadly skills with a blade, made him the single greatest threat to everything the Order was trying to achieve. Even if the Order somehow managed to kill The Warden, he would only be seen as a martyr and others would surely be inspired to carry on his cause. The only way to stop such a man was to find his weakest point and control it; to render the man tame and compliant. Only then could the Order be successful, and even then, there were no guarantees.

"It's going to come down to you and me, Warden." the Black Warden said to himself, "Then we'll see once and for all which of us is the strongest."


	24. Chapter 24

**Part XXIV**

Under the cover of darkness, King Alistair and his Captain of the Guard, Dyana, trekked southward along the main road towards Redcliffe. Having just been freed from imprisonment, the king thought it best if they traveled only at night in order to remain unseen and avoid recapture. His captors had treated him fairly well, more or less, but Alistair figured that was because Denolian had something special cooked up just for him, and the king had no intention of waiting around to see what that something was. For all his pious talk and appearance, Denolian was a cunning man and evil to the core. Alistair wouldn't put anything past the mad priest, especially if it served his own ambitions.

The reason the duo traveled south instead of east, towards Denerim, was in hope of finding The Warden. There really wasn't much he and the captain could do even if they managed to reach Denerim, anyway, so he decided it might best to search out his friend and pray The Warden had a plan to set everything right. And knowing The Warden as he did, Alistair figured that was probably the case.

Still, there was the task of finding him. Something that was not very easily accomplished, especially when he didn't want to be found. Alistair searched for The Warden once before in the exact same region, and even though he and his men managed to come only feet away from their quarry, The Warden and the witch were able to remain undetected and out of sight. The king's only consolation was in the fact that, this time, The Warden had to use the main road in order to get to Denerim. Going across country, even on horseback, would take far too long. That's assuming he was even headed for Denerim. For all Alistair knew, The Warden could be crossing the Frostback Mountains on his way to Orlais. But if he was headed to either Highever or Denerim, he would have to go right by Alistair, that is, if The Warden and his party hadn't already passed by. Either way, it was the only real chance Alistair had of finding him.

The sun was starting to rise over the far eastern horizon and the two decided it was best to find a secluded spot and set up camp until the sun once again went down. It was an abnormally difficult task, given the fact that neither of them had the normal camping supplies available and were forced to construct a tiny lean-to shelter out of whatever they could find lying about. The thin thatched roof barely kept the rain at bay, and there was hardly room for both of them to lie down comfortably, yet, each time they did go to rest, Alistair found himself minding the cramped quarters less and less. He'd never experienced the company of a woman in such a way before. Actually, when it came to women, there were a lot of things in which Alistair was unaccustomed to dealing with.

He hardly slept at all, spending most of his time looking at her sleeping form. He watched the way she lay there silent and still as her bosom rose and fell with each gentle breath. And in a moment of understanding, Alistair realized what The Warden must feel each time he looked upon his Morrigan in the same way. In the process, the witch's appeal to his friend became a little clearer.

"Do you really think they'll come this way? We've been walking south for days and haven't seen any trace of them so far." the captain asked, sitting next to the small campfire she made while she slipped her boots from her feet after another long night of walking.

"He's got to pass right by this spot in order to get to the northern road or the eastern one. There hasn't been many travelers since all this mess started, so the roads are mostly free of hoof, wagon, and other markings. We would know if he'd already been here, there'd be fresh hoofprints in the dirt, and there aren't any." the king answered, gesturing to the smooth and well-worn path that lay only yards from their spot behind the trees.

"But, sire, what if he's not even coming this way? I don't think it's wise to be out here alone like this. We need to get you to a more safe and secure location."

"We'll give it a couple more days. If we still haven't seen him by then, we'll make directly for Redcliffe and Arl Eamon's castle. Would that make you feel any better?"

"A little."

"Why only a little?"

"Let's just say you find The Warden...or he finds us...whichever. Chances are you'll want to go marching off with him on whatever damned mission he's on and get yourself killed in the process."

"Dyana...?" Alistair asked, raising a curious eyebrow at his captain, "Are you alright?"

"It's my job to protect you; something that I take very seriously." Dyana huffed defensively, "A job which you make almost impossible to do, by the way."

"It's not just that. There's something else, too. You had _real_ concern in your voice. It's not just about duty, is it? You're genuinely worried about me."

"What if I am?" the captain quipped, sharply, "I'll admit that I've grown quite fond of you over these past months, but it's not like I can really do anything about it."

"How do you mean?"

"You're the _king_, remember? I certainly haven't forgotten. Me? I'm just a lowly commoner." Dyana said as she exhaled loudly, "What chance would I have?"

"Yes, I'm the bloody king. But it's not like I ever wanted to be. I got cornered into it."

"Still, as king, it's your duty to be seen with more...appropriate company than myself."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you should preserve yourself for a woman of higher standing than me. Someone closer to your own station."

"That's insane. Those are the same sort or women I would make funny faces at when their backs were turned. It usually got me a good scolding from Arl Eamon."

"You really did that as a child?" Dyana asked, giggling a bit.

"Uhm...yeah. Sure. As a child." he replied with a slight chuckle while he nervously rubbed the back of his head.

"Either way, it's best if we keep things between us strictly professional. At least for now, anyway, while we have this whole mess to deal with."

"And what about afterward?"

The captain cast her large blue eyes at Alistair, mesmerizing him, and said, "Afterward, if you're really up to it, we'll see where it goes."

"I can live with that." Alistair replied with a smile.

* * *

"Are you sure that's what they're up to?" Teagan asked Fergus when the teyrn told him what he suspected the Order was doing..

"Those men going into that tent aren't just disappearing. They have to be going someplace." the teyrn replied, "My guess is their digging to the large storm drains that lead into the central sewage system. From there, those soldiers could start popping up from any number of places."

"Yes, but where's the dirt? If they were digging any kind of tunnel, they would have to put all that dirt somewhere, wouldn't they?"

"Not if they dug it from the inside out."

"From the inside out?"

"Yes," the teyrn confirmed as he explained, "We know they have agents inside the city, but we've seen no trace of them or any unusual activity. That's because they were all in the sewers digging their way out."

"Then, this is worse than you originally thought. If men are disappearing into this tent, as you say, then that means they've already finished the tunnel and are moving men into position. We've got to get our own men down there before it's too late."

"There are five main junctions underneath the city. We'll break off into groups and start at those places, working our way outward. We'll have a much better chance if we can keep them bottled up down there."

"Agreed, but remember, they've got reinforcements. We don't. We'll have to find that tunnel and seal it off before they can get too many men into it."

The teyrn and bann rushed to assemble their men, formed into five even groups, with both men each leading a group themselves. The soldiers poured out of the castle and into the city streets, running in five different directions. Teyrn Fergus' group headed for the closest junction, which was only two blocks east of the palace. He directed two of the men to remove the sealed metal lid from its place and quickly urged the others down the dark hole. Once the teyrn and all his soldiers were beneath the streets in the city's sewer, he began giving them instructions to stay sharp and be on the alert.

From the large concrete and stone chamber they presently occupied, there were three large, round openings that led off in different directions under the city. Fergus again divided his men into smaller groups, each to search a different passage. One group would take the northern passage that emptied out beneath the Market District. Another would head southeast to the sewers beneath the alienange, while Fergus' would take the southwest tunnel, which lead to Fort Drakon, where it intersected with the storm drains that flowed out of Denerim.

Other than the smell and the large rats, another drawback was the lighting, or, more specifically, the distinct lack of. Because of the highly flammable vapors floating about down below, bringing torches, lamps, or any other types of flame would have been suicide and quite likely would set the entire city on fire. There were steel grates covering drains along the streets that let some light in, but not much, which might have been for the best, considering what was probably floating in the water, anyway. The tunnel walls were made of brick and stone; smooth to the touch and rounded. There was just enough room for three men to stand side-by-side, although the one in the middle would be knee deep in a river of raw sewage. They, instead, walked in two rows along either side of the putrid waste; silently and slowly moving down the passage.

Halfway to the end of the tunnel, they reached another, smaller, junction chamber. Two more narrower tunnels branched off from the main tunnel and led in opposite directions. Just as before, Fergus split the group further, sending pairs of men down each branching tunnel. He entered the sewers with thirty other men, now he was left with just six. It was a miniscule number compared to possibly thousands of men the Order might have. But the sewers were cramped and the teyrn was counting on the Order's soldiers not all being in the same location. They would be spread out in various places, all readying themselves to attack at the same instant. That way they could quickly rush out from their underground hiding spots and flood the city, rather than have to wait for everyone to climb a single set of stairs or a ladder, one at a time.

If the teyrn and his men encountered anyone at all, it would be only a small part of the total force. If he was right, Fergus suspected that Bann Teagan and the other groups would all find their fair share of the Order's soldiers as well.

The shouts of men and the sound of metal clanging on metal echoing from off in the distance soon informed the teyrn that the enemy men were located. He listened for a bit and could tell that it wasn't from any of the groups he sent out. He deemed the commotion was from one of the other groups that had gone into the city sewers, possibly Bann Teagan's men, who were searching the junction underneath the Market District to the north.

Fergus looked at the the faces of the men surrounding him, which were nervous and anxious from the sounds of combat, and said, "Steady now, boys. We'll get our turn soon enough. Let's keep moving."

The teyrn and his men walked deeper into the tunnel, a step at a time, while more and more sounds of battle began to erupt from all directions. The cries of dying men yelling out and the splashes of their carcasses falling into the flowing filth filled the stagnant air, making it even more foul. As the soldiers finally neared the end of the long tunnel, they found someone was there waiting for them. In the dim light cast down by the street drains, stood the shadowy forms of many men, with their sharpened blades glistening off the few beams of light that managed to reach these depths. All of them yelled out in unison, creating a deafening roar that reverberated through the tunnels, and charged head-on towards the teyrn and his small group.

"Maker, there's a lot of them." Fergus mumbled to himself while he gripped his blade tightly in his hand as he raised it above his head and prepared to swing it down on the first attacker.

* * *

The party had been rapidly traveling north along the main road for hours, doing their best to stay ahead of the pursuing Black Warden and his men. The Warden's back was throbbing from having to sit at the back of his steed with his arms wrapped around Morrigan, who sat in front of him in the saddle clutching Seth against her. He'd been leaning in an awkward position in order to hold the reigns, and now his lower back ached unmercifully. But at least they were able to put some distance between themselves and the soldiers that chased them.

Periodically they would stop to rest and water the horses while Morrigan would assume bird-form and scan for signs of their pursuers from above. The last time she did so, the witch saw nothing of the men that followed them. The Warden concluded that the Black Warden had given up his search, thinking that The Warden was on his way to Denerim, and decided to continue back to Castle Cousland in order to deliver the eye to Denolian. It was unlikely the Black Warden would be in any sort of hurry either, since Denerim was far to the east and The Warden, in his zeal to save the city, would be diverted from the real threat, which was the Eye of Arvisarok and the ritual pertaining to it.

But The Warden wasn't going to abide by the same rules any longer. He wasn't headed for Denerim, but Castle Cousland, instead. He knew that whatever Denolian had planned, that was where the epicenter would be. The invasion was nothing more than an elaborate diversion. The mad priest intended for his true army to be filled with the same hideous imps that The Warden and the witch encountered in the ruined temple. And in order to stop Denolian from creating his unholy army, The Warden was going to require an unholy army of his own.

"I've had a chance to read through some of the manuscripts we found at the temple." Morrigan said while she held her fidgety child in her lap.

"Find anything interesting?" The Warden asked.

"Several things." the witch replied, "It seems as though the temple did indeed belong to the Order of Bohlen, more than seven hundred years ago. They themselves used it for at least two hundred years, probably more. They may indeed be the first followers of Andraste. That was the reason the temple was constructed in such a remote location. The teachings you've heard all your life had not yet come in acceptance and there was a very real fear of harassment."

"Do those books have any clues about what Denolian needs to do in order to create his minions?"

"They do." the witch confirmed, "the books describe in great detail the ritual that is required and also tell of the victims, who must come willingly and of their own accord."

"That explains all the false spiritualism. What better way to get them to sacrifice themselves than by telling them their religion demands it? But in order to get to all of his followers, Denolian will have to travel to almost every town and village in Ferelden. By then, I'm sure people would find out what he's doing and turn on him. It doesn't make sense."

"The books tell of a remarkably similar situation as ours. Apparently 'tis not the first time the Order has attempted such a thing. The scene we found in the chamber at the bottom of the stairs was the result of their last attempt."

"But how could Denolian have heard of this obscure sect from seven centuries ago?"

"There's the odd thing." Morrigan said, cocking her head to the side.

"What's that?"

"The person listed in the manuscripts as the temple's leader is named _Denolian_."

"You think it could be the same person?"

"I fail to see why not. After all, Flemeth was able to survive for more than five hundred years, herself."

"Yes, but she needed the help of a god and had to steal the forms of other people to do it. Do you honestly think he could be nine hundred years old?"

"At least as old. Probably much older, still." Morrigan confirmed, "Whatever this Denolian is, 'tis certainly not human. I will need to read further before I know any more."

"Let me know if you find out anything else."

"Oh, really?" the witch asked, casting a sarcastic grin back over her shoulder, "I thought I might keep it all to myself. You know how much I hate sharing."

"It's good to see you're in a better mood. I missed seeing you smile." he said as he tenderly nuzzled the back of her neck.

"I have my son back. 'Tis as it should be." Morrigan replied, "Nearly at least."

"Why only nearly?"

"I will make those bastards pay. If it costs me my life, I shall teach them the meaning of true fear. Those men should count themselves fortunate that Flemeth never permitted me to learn the form of a high-dragon."

"They're not the only ones." The Warden retorted, "I don't even want to think about having to deal with that after we've had an argument."

"Yes, but bigger arguments often lead to bigger reconciliation." the witch purred.

"Don't even talk about that stuff right now..." he groaned against her shoulder, "Who knows how much longer I'll have to wait. As it is, I'm so horny I think I'm going cross eyed."

"Dwemer Cousland!" the witch huffed, "You will watch your words in front of your son!"

"Me?" he asked, shocked, "I'm not the one who taught him how to curse, remember?"

"Twas not my fault." the witch said, pleading her case, "I had been brewing that potion all day, only for it to spill out onto the floor. I had not intended on him hearing me."

"The whole castle heard you. Seth was maybe twenty feet away from you. Do you think he's deaf?"

"Do not tease! I already feel bad enough."

"And who would have thought it would be so easy for him to say. He really took to it, didn't he? Shit this, and shit that. Everything was shit." The Warden said, grinning widely.

"'Tis not funny."

"You have to admit, it kinda is." he said, chuckling.

"Shit Mom'er! Shit!" Seth yelled as he giggled and clapped his chubby toddler hands.

"Just perfect." Morrigan sighed, "Now see what you've done. I suppose you'll be insufferably pleased with yourself for hours."

"You're looking at this all wrong."

"Oh, is that so? And how, exactly, should I be viewing this?"

"You need to stop being so negative and focus on something positive."

"For instance...?"

"Uhm...Our son is a very fast learner. See? That's a good thing."

"Ah, I see." Morrigan said, unamused, "And what sort of positive do you think our son would get from seeing me render you unconscious?"

"Only that his mother has no sense of humor."

Even The Warden had a limit as to what the witch would tolerate from him and he knew he was close to exceeding it. He didn't blame her, though. He understood he could be a handful to deal with on occasion, and that, even though she had her son back, Morrigan was still very much rattled by the situation. It was going to take them both a bit of time to put things in the past for good.

As the party rounded a bend in the road, their eyes caught movement in the bushes. Without any of them saying a word, swords were drawn and combat positions were instinctively taken up along the roadside. Morrigan gripped Seth closer to herself and muttered a few words which caused both she and the child to be enveloped in a magical shield. The Warden dropped down from his horse and approached the bushes. He watched as some of the branches seemed to twitch and then shudder. Before long, the entire bush was shaking fiercely, causing The Warden to take a step back. He raised his blade in anticipation of what was about to emerge from the bush, when out onto the ground stumbled a man with several leaves stuck in his hair and who was trying to spit out several more.

When the man stood up and began brushing the leaves from his body, The Warden instantly recognized him. "Alistair?" he said, dumbfounded.

"It's about time you got here." Alistair replied, "I was starting to think you were never going to show up."


	25. Chapter 25

**Part XXV**

The battle raging beneath the streets of Denerim was going about as well as could be expected, given the circumstances. The Order was able to sneak quite a few men into the sewers but hadn't had the chance to get into position to launch their surprise assault before being discovered by Teyrn Fergus' soldiers. Their unexpected discovery allowed the teyrn's men to catch them off-balance and drive them back deeper into the tunnels. But, as always, the Order heavily outnumbered the teyrn's soldiers, and their initial surge stalled after the Order regrouped and sent in reinforcements.

The tight spaces helped balance the odds a bit, however, both sides were losing men at a rapid pace. The Order could and did replace theirs, but Fergus couldn't do the same. If they were unable to locate the tunnel the Order's agents dug and seal it soon, it would only be a matter of time before the Order's vastly superior numbers proved to be too much for the teyrn's small army and the city was lost.

Fergus had withdrawn from the front lines, at the behest of his lieutenants, and had set up a field headquarters just above the main sewer entrance. From there, he directed the actions of his men, which he hoped to use to snare the Order with a pincher maneuver. The Order's men weren't able to fan out very deeply into the sewers and were still mostly concentrated in the western end. By sending his men to flank them from the northeast and southeast, Fergus would be forcing the enemy to fight on two fronts. A move that should give him the tactical advantage. But the longer the tunnel remained open, the greater the chance the Order would be able to send enough men underneath the city to break through the teyrn's forces.

Bann Teagan emerged from the hole in the street, covered in muck and blood. He flung bits of goo and slime from his armor as he approached the teyrn's table. "Things are starting to get a bit dicey down there. We've managed to back them up into the western flood chamber...here." the bann reported as he pointed out the location on a map resting on the table, "But we won't be able to keep them bottled up for very long. We've managed to temporarily cut off a string of reinforcements coming in through this tunnel underneath the western wall. I think we'll find the tunnel they dug somewhere near there."

"How long can you hold off their reinforcements?" Fergus asked.

"Not long. A few minutes at best. We'll need more men to go any longer."

"I've already pulled all the extra men I can. We barely have enough left in the city to watch the main gate. But I think I may have an idea."

"What's that?"

"We're going to drop a torch on them."

"Are you trying to set the entire city on fire? You'd ignite everything in the sewers and the buildings that connect to them."

"Tell your men to hold the line for five more minutes. That will give us time to get the flood gates closed and lock those bastards inside the flood chamber. Those gates are thick and sturdy. They'll be able to contain any men or flames."

"I hope this idea of yours works. If it doesn't, there won't be anything left of Denerim for the Order to have. To be honest, it sounds like something your brother would come up with."

"While I may have gotten all the looks, he certainly didn't get all the brains." the teyrn joked, "When we're ready to close the gates, I'll send the signal for you to withdraw your men."

"We'll be waiting, but remember, we won't be able to hold them back for long." Bann Teagan said while he climbed back down the ladder and into the sewers.

There were six gates, in all, that needed to be closed and a single lever controlled them all. Fortunately, the lever to close the gate was located in a guardhouse on top of the west city wall and was easily accessible. Unfortunately, however, the only way to get to it was by running along the top of the western wall. That meant whoever was sent to pull the lever and activate the gates was going to have to dodge a hail of arrows from the Order's sharpshooting archers posted just outside the city. They would have to stay below the parapets and move swiftly in order to evade the barrage that was sure to come.

"I'll do it myself." Fergus stated confidently, as he pulled his sheathed blade from the table and fastened it around his waist.

"I cannot allow that, your grace." the lieutenant in shiny armor next to the teyrn proclaimed . "The king has already been lost. It's my duty to see that you remain safe. As regent, it's your duty to..."

"Yes, yes, yes." Fergus groaned, "I'm well aware of my duties, lieutenant. But sometimes you have to lead by example. We're in for a tough fight here, and those men need to believe I won't ask them to do anything I wasn't willing to do myself. Besides, it's just pulling a lever. How hard could it be?"

"I'm going with you, then."

"No. I'll need you here, so you can signal the bann. Look for me atop the wall. When you see my signal, order them to withdraw."

"Yes, my lord."

Taking in a deep breath and hoping he was still as fit as he used to be, Fergus headed to the west wall of the city. He reached the bottom of the long wooden ladder that stretched to the allure above and started to climb it, quickly at first, then slowing to a snails pace when he neared the top in an effort to avoid detection. With a hard tug, he pulled himself up and over the stone ledge and onto the allure. Fergus quickly ducked as low as he could and pressed himself against the wall beneath the parapets.

The guardhouse closest to him was occupied by two men who remained hidden in the darkness from outside view at all times. There was no lever within it. The guardhouse which contained the lever was near the northwestern corner of the wall, a distance of nearly a quarter mile from Fergus' location. Shimmying along the inside of the wall wasn't going to get him where he needed to be quick enough. In order for the teyrn to reach the northern end of the wall in the short time that he had, he was going to have to run.

Fergus took a few more deep breaths to steady himself, then shoved himself up with all the force his legs could muster, and ran towards the guardhouse as fast as he could. Almost instantly the arrows began to come. Fergus did his best to alter his path from side to side in a serpentine pattern while he ran. When he was within fifteen feet of the guardhouse, he dove forward and sailed into the shelter, while several arrows bounced off the stones around him.

He stood up, and dusted himself off. Fergus saw the guards eying him curiously as he adjusted his attire.

"My lord?" one of the guards asked, puzzled.

"As you were, men." the teyrn said while he readied for another sprint to the next guardhouse that lay one hundred yards in the distance.

Fergus let out a fierce yell and rushed out of the guardhouse and back into view. Again, he was greeted by arrows zipping past him, more than a few of which were dangerously close to their mark. As before, he zigzagged his way across the wallwalk, running as fast as he could and doing his best to ensure the archers had a most difficult target to shoot at. With another mighty heave, the teyrn leaped into the next guardhouse, tumbling and sliding across the floor.

He rolled himself up to his knees, slowly propping one leg up. Fergus had never run all out for such a distance and as a result, his lungs felt like they were about to explode. He was horribly out of breath and gasping for air. His mouth was starting to get dry and pasty and his tongue became thick in his mouth.

"Two down..." the teyrn gasped, "Three to go."

He channeled every last ounce of strength he could muster and rose to his feet. He readied himself and cleared his mind, focusing only on the task at hand. Crying out, Fergus bolted from safety and raced across the allure towards the next guardhouse. His chest felt as though someone was stabbing it repeatedly, yet he refused to slow his pace. If he was too slow, Bann Teagan and his men would be overrun and slaughtered.

Fergus was able to make it from one structure to the next, all the while dodging the deadly missiles that whizzed by his head. He desperately tried to coax his tired legs to keep moving, though they were becoming harder to convince with each step. With his body starting to refuse to cooperate with him, he somehow managed to find himself within reach of the final guardhouse. And just as he was about to make his final leap, one of the arrows finally found its target; hitting the teyrn squarely in his lower back while its large, barbed tip sank deep into his flesh.

Crying out in agony, the teyrn stumbled into the guardhouse and collapsed on the floor. Blood flowed freely from the deep wound, spilling all over the floor while he writhed in pain. He reached his hand up to the rusty metal lever on the wall. Gripping it in his hand, he pulled himself off the floor and to his feet. Sweat poured from him, running down into his face, stinging his eyes, and blurring his vision. He wiped the back of his hand across his face, trying to clear his sight. Gasping heavily, Fergus shambled to the back wall and removed the torch from its stand. He crouched down, out of view, and leaned over the inside railing. He began to furiously wave the torch back and forth, trying to get the lieutenant's attention. Fergus exhaled a long sigh of relief when he saw the distant lieutenant run over to the sewer opening and hurry down the ladder. Fergus took it as a clear indication that his signal had been received and that the order to withdraw was being delivered.

He was losing blood and growing weaker by the second. Standing was starting to require more effort than his tired body was able to produce. Fergus once more staggered back over to the lever against the wall, this time to pull on it. It was rusted in place and it took all his strength just to get the lever to shift only slightly from it's spot. He cursed it for being stubborn as he tugged on it as hard as he could, which only yielded limited results. With a final desperate tug, the lever broke loose and swung over, locking in place with a loud _clank_. A low rumble soon followed and the floor beneath his feet began to vibrate, indicating that the storm gates were slowly swinging shut.

Exhaling in relief, Fergus once more clamored to the inside ledge and collapsed across it. "You there!" he called out with what little strength he was able to muster to a guard that was posted below him in the street.

"Yes, my lord?" the guard asked.

"Take this and drop it down into the flood chamber." Fergus ordered as he dropped the torch. When it hit the ground, the flames nearly went out, yet somehow managed to find a way to keep themselves burning and flicker back to life.

"But is that safe, my lord?"

"You heard me. Just do it." Fergus ordered.

"Yes, my lord!" the guard exclaimed and ran off towards to a nearby side street where, at the end, a stone dome protruded from the ground.

The dome, itself, was about fifteen feet in diameter and was relatively squat, rising only about four feet above ground. It's outside was smooth white stone. A round rusted metal hatch near the side was the only access to the flood chamber that lay below.

The guard opened the hatch, dropped the torch into the blackness beneath, and quickly ran off, ducking behind a stone pillar. The flame streaked down further and further while the bewildered men trapped inside the large chamber all watched as the torch fell towards them. And just when the flame was about to strike the water and be extinguished, the dense vapors inside the room ignited and burst into flame. The ground shook beneath the teyrn's feet, accompanied by a deafening roar. A tall plume of flames shot forth from the dome's small opening while the stone cracked and was finally blown apart, sending large chunks of debris flying in all directions. Smoke and the smell of burning flesh billowed up from the newly-formed crater, while outside the city, flame belched out from the tunnel and carried several men with it, launching them into the white tent that concealed the hole. Immediately, the tent caught fire and was rapidly consumed by large columns of flame until it burned to the ground, leaving behind the charred bodies of several men who were trapped in the tunnel.

In the vicinity nearest the blast, several building's were damaged, but nothing that was too severe. The front porch collapsed on one, while another had it's foundation rattled, causing the inside wall to crack in spots. Other than a few reports of damage, there was nothing. Nothing else was damaged or on fire. The gates held and contained the blast. The teyrn was even able to see Teagan and his men as they emerged from the sewers. Miraculously, Fergus' plan worked to perfection. It was their first major victory over the Order of Bohlen, and would force them to think twice about any future plans they might attempt.

Fergus slid down against the wall until he rested on his backside. He began chuckling weakly, and forced his face into a smile. The light around him was dimming quickly and he was unable to keep himself propped up. He fell over on his side, the wound on his back leaving a crimson trail against the bricks as he toppled over. The world around him was growing ever dimmer and fading further away, until the only thing he was aware of, was the sound of his own laughter as the darkness crept in and claimed him.

* * *

The Warden stood with his mouth hung wide open, amazed at Alistair's sudden appearance. There were many things The Warden expected to see jumping out at them from the side of the road, but the king was not among them. The astonishment was soon shaken off a bit and he was able to speak.

"It's good to see you, too." Alistair said with a wry grin.

"How did you manage to escape?" The Warden asked.

"So you _did_ know I'd been captured." Alistair huffed as his tone quickly changed, "Some friend you are. Where were you? Why didn't you come break me out? I had to wait for Dyana to do it."

"Hey! You say that like it's something bad." the captain objected as she emerged from the trees beside the road.

"I...I didn't _mean_ it like _that_..." Alistair stammered.

"I risked my neck getting you out of there. I think you would be a little more grateful, _your majesty_." Dyana said with crossed arms and a fierce glare.

"No, you've got it all wrong." Alistair said, desperately pleading his case, "What I meant was that _he_ was supposed to rescue me because that's what he usually does. I wasn't trying to say anything bad about you. Honestly."

"Do you see that?" Leliana excitedly whispered to the elf as she noticed a familiar quality about the pair.

"It can mean only one thing." Zeveran concluded with a nod, "It seems we have a new set of lovebirds on our hands."

"No. No we're not." Dyana corrected.

"At least, not yet, anyway." Alistair added.

"'Tis an odd reply, even for you, Alistair." Morrigan said, "Explain how you mean."

"That's not important right now. We've got bigger concerns on our hands at the moment. We need to be focusing on them."

"Oh, my yes, _your majesty_." the witch quipped with a wicked grin and gave a slight mocking nod, "How silly of me to question you. Can you ever forgive your lowly subject?"

"You know what, Morrigan?" Alistair replied, "After what I've had to hear over the past two weeks from that stupid priest, anything you say will seem gentle by comparison. And besides, deep down, I know you even missed me."

"Now 'tis you who is being ridiculous. Wherever would you get such an absurd notion?"

"Admit it. You like me much more than you let on."

"You are like an annoying younger brother. A bothersome nuisance and nothing more." Morrigan countered, "But still, I suppose you are not completely worthless. Admittedly, there is a part of me that is actually rather fond of you. Albeit, a small part."

"Aha!" Alistair exclaimed, "I knew it! You only say all that stuff about me because you really like me."

"Think what you wish, I care not."

"I really hate to break up this reunion, but you never did answer the question." The Warden noted, "How _did_ you escape?"

"As I said before, Dyana was mostly responsible. She sneaked into the castle and rescued me." Alistair explained.

"She was _mostly_ responsible? What do you mean?"

"We had a bit of help. Well, more than a bit, really."

"Help? From who?"

"From an old friend of yours, I believe."

"An old friend?"

"Yes. It was the strangest thing."

"How do you mean?"

"Oh for pity's sake, knock it off, the both of you! You are both eternally adolescent!" Morrigan huffed, having seen through their game and become impatient with it. "You've not been reunited for more than two minutes and already it starts. Can you not simply just say 'hello'?"

"Why _do_ they do that?" Dyana asked the other women.

"It's their way of saying 'I missed you and was worried about you.'" Leliana explained.

"I don't understand."

"'Tis...a 'guy thing'." Morrigan said, "Or so I am told."

"You better tell me before she gets mad." The Warden said, chuckling.

"She's always trying to stop our fun." Alistair agreed, "It was the desire demon of all people, in case you hadn't already figured it out."

"I figured that's who you were talking about. But why did she, of all creatures, decide to help you."

"So I could tell you what she did. She's afraid you'll kill her when you go after Denolian."

"How like a demon to be concerned only with her own survival." the witch quipped sharply.

"A subject on which you could speak volumes, I am sure." Zeveran noted.

"I suggest you choose your words more carefully, elf. I am in no mood for your tiresome drivel."

"You misunderstand me. I meant no insult. For someone of my profession, survival skills are of the utmost importance. I would be honored to have your knack for self-preservation."

"I see." Morrigan replied, strangely uncomfortable with the compliment.

"Silas?" the king said when he finally noticed the younger warden, "I thought you were dead. Thank the Maker I was wrong."

"It's good to see you too, Alistair...I mean, your majesty."

The king cringed at Silas' words, saying, "The fewer people that call me that, the better. Just call me Alistair, like you did at Vigil's Keep." Alistair's tone then changed to a more somber one, "If there was anyway we'd known you were still alive underneath all that rock..." he said.

"I know, your maj...Alistair. I don't blame anyone but myself for what happened."

"So what's our plan?" the captain asked.

"We're headed back to Castle Cousland to stop Denolian. But in order to do that, we'll need some help." The Warden answered. "Alistair, do you know if they ever found the Orbs of Arastani?"

"We went right by them. They looked as though they hadn't been messed with. Why?"

"We're going to use them."

"This is normally the part were I call you crazy. But I suppose stating the obvious is getting a bit dull. You do know that'll bring every darkspawn within two hundred miles right down on our head, right?"

"That's exactly what I'm counting on."

"Ah...I see. Let the Order deal with them for a bit. Maybe your not crazy after all. But what about the Grey Wardens at Vigil's Keep? You plan on attracting all of them as well?"

"My guess is they're just as busy dealing with the Order in Amaranthine as we are here. They're most needed were they are. Morrigan thinks she has a way to avoid attracting them."

"What's that?"

"As with many magical artifacts, the orbs may be manipulated in a number of ways. And, after having used them repeatedly on previous occasions, I am now quite familiar with the orbs and their capabilities." Morrigan explained, "I should a be to control the song the orbs sing and direct it westward, thus avoiding any unplanned visitors. And, if I am correct, I should be able to assert at least a small bit of control over the darkspawn. How much, I cannot be sure. I suppose we shall find out."

"It'll be at least two or more days after we activate the orbs before the bastards start showing up. But when they finally do, all hell is going to break lose."

"And what about when we're finished with the darkspawn?" the king asked, "Do you think they'll just leave if we ask them nicely? The last thing we need to do is accidentally start another Blight. I've already been through one, I don't plan on experiencing another."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." came The Warden's reply.

"That's not exactly inspiring any confidence."

* * *

To say Denolian was less than pleased about the king's escape would be a drastic understatement. The priest was absolutely furious about it. Alistair was to serve a very special purpose in the upcoming ceremony. And while he could be replaced by another, more willing, participant, the king's royal blood would greatly augment the power the ceremony summoned. Therefore, Denolian highly desired Alistair's recapture as soon as possible.

Having the king as a prisoner wasn't part of the initial plan. Although, Denolian did concede the possibility once Denerim had been sacked, as he thought that's where the king would be. Having Alistair fall right into his lap after the first battle was a pure stroke of luck. After a while, the mad priest began to count on the king's affect on his plans and took them for granted. After all, there was no possibility of escape and soon the Black Warden would be delivering the Eye. But despite all Denolian's careful planning, the king did escape.

"It appears we have a traitor in or midst, my dear." Denolian said to the demoness.

"What makes you think that?" she asked in return and doing her best to show no outward signs of guilt.

"His arms and legs were secured with changes strong enough to hold a dragon. He didn't let himself out. Someone had to help him."

"A guard's body was found just outside the castle walls. It was more likely one of his comrades, possibly even The Warden." the demon falsely surmised.

"That remains a possibility, true." Denolian said, "But whoever it was had help from the inside. You saw the shackles as well as I did. They weren't forced open, they were unlocked. That means they had a key."

"There are only two sets of keys. Did you check with the lieutenant in charge?"

"Two sets, yes. And one set _is_ missing. But it's not the lieutenant's." the priest calmly replied, "Tell me, my dear, was there some reason you went into the master chamber upstairs the day the king went missing?"

"What are you asking? Are you saying you suspect _me_?" the demon said, feigning shock as best as she could.

"At this juncture, I suspect everyone who isn't myself. So tell me, why were you up there?"

"I needed paper and an envelope. Other than the study, the master chamber is the only place to get those items. And since I was closer to the master chamber, that's where I went."

"And what about the woman who was with you?"

"She was one of _your_ guards. She was the one I had deliver the message."

"What was this message?"

"The message?"

"Yes. The one you had the guard deliver. What was it and who was it for?"

"Well...it was to...uhm..." the demon stumbled while she tried to think of a viable story.

The priest was starting to get impatient at the demon's delay, "I'm waiting." he said.

"Yes, well...if you really must know, the message was for the cook. I really enjoyed those meat tarts and was asking him to make some for me."

"I see. I'll have to ask the cook about that." the priest replied coldly.

"There is a chance he may not have gotten the message. The guard told me that she was rarely ever in the castle and was usually out on patrol. I haven't seen her since then, so I assume that's where she is."

"Very well, I will accept your story. If only because there is no evidence to the contrary." Denolian said, "But if I ever do find out that you betrayed me, I'll show you that there are indeed many things worse than death, and I shall introduce you to them all. Am I understood?"

"Y..Yes...my master."


	26. Chapter 26

**Part XXVI**

The Warden's party traveled north along the main road as rapidly as they could. The need for haste was urgent, as The Warden figured he only had a few days at best before the Black Warden arrived to deliver the Eye of Arvisarok to the mad priest, Denolian. The Warden wanted be sure he had enough time to enact his plan before then. He still wasn't quite sure what purpose the Eye served in the priest's overall scheme, but Morrigan was slowly piecing the puzzle together the more she was able to study the manuscripts the two found in the ruined temple in the Korcari Wilds. And as the sun set on the second day of their journey, they found themselves standing at the edge of the forest bordering what used to be the bustling village of Highever.

To The Warden's horror, all that remained of the village he called home since he was a boy was a charred wasteland. The smell of rot and death hung in the air like a thick cloud, while blackened timbers from the frames of some of the structures poked out from rubble here and there. All of the buildings had been put to the flame. All, that is, except for one: The Temple of the Order of Bohlen, which still stood proud against the backdrop of ruin.

Anger swelled in The Warden's heart while his eyes scanned the devastation. The small stone temple left behind only served to enrage him further. It took every single ounce of resolve he could muster to keep from running out from the cover of the trees and demolishing the stone building brick by brick with his bare hands.

Sensing the turmoil inside her warden, Morrigan stood close to him and gently caressed his arm, saying, "Now is not the time for rash actions, my love. Save your sorrow and let it give you the strength you will need for what lies ahead. We shall set things right."

"I swear they won't get the chance to do this to anyone else." was his reply as the flames of hate burned in his gut and radiated outwards through his entire body.

"So what do we do now?" Silas asked from the back of the group, still too nervous to get any closer to the witch.

"Now we set up camp and make preparations for tonight." The Warden answered flatly as he turned from the horrible scene and walked back deeper into the forest.

The Warden did his best to keep himself busy with making the fire and erecting the tent he and his family would share in order to prevent his mind from wandering and thinking about the burned remains of the village. He tried to teach Morrigan the dangers of letting one's anger gain control, and now he was forced to review his own lesson. The last thing he could afford to do was be sloppy and overlook the obvious, and that's exactly what would happen if he acted out of blind rage. What was needed here was careful planning and execution. He found himself desperately in need of a dark ale; chilled and frosty as only his witch could provide. But drowning his problems inside a bottle wasn't an option, no matter how much he desired to do so. Instead, he tried to calm himself, clear his mind, and focus on the task before him.

Nightfall came, as it always did, and with it, a small serenity the stillness brought. The party sat around the fire in the middle of the camp, finishing the last of their supper, all except The Warden who didn't have much of an appetite. Despite Morrigan's objections that he needed to eat to keep his strength, he insisted he wasn't hungry. Instead, he sat next to his witch, who held Seth in her lap as she fed him, and poked a stick into the embers.

"As usual, your son has gotten more food on himself than in his mouth." the witch remarked as she stood with a slight groan, "I shall be in our tent cleaning him and getting him ready to be put down for the night. I trust you will tend to him during my absence?"

"Of course. We'll be fine." The Warden replied.

The Warden looked up to see Morrigan taking Seth and disappearing into the tent, closing the cloth flap behind her. When she was no longer in view, his eyes trailed back to the dancing fire in front of him. Images of the burning village began to flood his mind. He winced uncontrollably as thoughts of flames reaching skyward, consuming everything around them raced through his head. He was certain he could even hear the screams of the women and children as they cried out for their husbands and fathers. No matter how hard he tried to force the visions out, they refused to leave, continuing instead to torment him. The sudden sound of dry leaves crumbling underfoot nearby broke The Warden from his trance. He looked up to notice that everyone else had also gotten up and went to attend to other things, leaving him alone by the fire. The Warden looked over his shoulder in the direction the footsteps came to see Alistair standing there with an uncertain look on his face.

"Hey, Dwemer." the king said.

"Hey, Alistair." the Warden replied in kind.

The king walked around the large log beside the fire and sat down on it next to The Warden. The look on his face said that he wanted to ask The Warden about something, but wasn't quite sure how to begin. So instead of sitting there and looking like a squirming dunce, Alistair figured it was better to at least say something.

"So..." he slowly began, "Morrigan's going into the castle tonight?"

"That's the plan." The Warden replied.

"You're just going to let her go in there by herself? Aren't you in the least bit worried?"

"Of course I'm worried. But it's best if she goes alone. She's the only one who can activate the orbs and her ability to change forms will allow her to get inside unnoticed."

"The Order knows she can change her shape. Don't you think they'll be a bit suspicious about seeing a small bird flying around in the middle of the night?"

"Way to make me feel better, buddy." The Warden said with a forced smile as he patted his friend on the back.

"Always glad to be of help."

"But for your information, in order to get inside, she's going to be using a form none of you have seen her take before."

"Oh, really?" Alistair said, his ears perking up, "What's that?"

"She made me promise not to tell. Especially you and Leliana."

"In that case, I _have_ to know what it is."

"You know how she is about those sorts of things. Are you trying to get her mad at me? "

"I suppose not." Alistair said, disappointed. "But I'm still going to try to sneak a peek when she leaves. With all the bright flashing lights, she'll have to change forms here, before she goes, otherwise the whole castle might see her."

"Do so at your own risk, my friend." The Warden replied with a smile. "But if she catches you, don't say you weren't warned."

"That bad, eh?"

"Let me put it to you like this, in the entire time Morrigan and I have been together, I've only seen her take this form two times."

"It must be a horrible creature."

"Yeah, you could say that." The Warden confirmed as the continued to poke his stick into the embers at the base of the fire. "So, what's the deal with you and Dyana, anyway?"

"I don't know, to be honest. I wanted to talk to you about that. If...if you don't mind, that is."

"Sure. What's on your mind?"

"Well..." Alistair began, "You know I don't have a great deal of experience when it comes to women. Actually, I don't have any experience. Almost everything I've learned comes from watching you and Morrigan."

"Does Dyana know that?"

"No, she doesn't. At least I don't think she does." Alistair said, sighing a bit, "When I'm around her it's like I'm another person. I feel all funny inside. I can't really explain it."

"I know exactly what you mean." The Warden assured.

"I was hoping you might, because I really don't understand any of this at all. In front of her I have to put on a strong face and, you know...be the king. But I just want to be normal old _Alistair._"

"Are you worried she's only interested because your king?"

"Not so much that, as it is I'm afraid she thinks I'm something I'm not. Dwemer, you probably know me better than anyone else, except for maybe Arl Eamon. You know I'm not some big strong powerful man. I'm not like you."

"You're a helluva lot better than you give yourself credit for, Alistair."

"I appreciate you saying that." Alistair said with a small smile, "But we both know what sort of person I really am. I mean, just look at me. I'm famous for using sarcasm to hide the fact that most of the time I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm not the great leader Dyana thinks I am."

"Now you're not giving Dyana enough credit." The Warden replied.

"How do you mean?"

"You're the purest soul out of all of us. I think the captain is smart enough to see that."

"Thanks, Dwemer. Really. I don't really have anyone else I can go to for these sort of things."

"That's what I'm here for." The Warden said, casting a smile at his friend. "So, have you kissed her yet?"

"Uh...no." Alistair said hesitantly, "We agreed it was best to hold off on anything until after the Order has been taken care of. Neither of us can afford to be distracted right now."

"Morrigan once told me something similar."

"And what did you tell her?"

"That some things are worth the distraction. It was my way of saying that I wasn't going to let her off the hook that easily."

"So you think I should say to hell with waiting and just dive in, head first?"

"I didn't say that. All relationships are different. It'll take some time, but you two will figure out what works and what doesn't. If that means waiting, then you wait. But if I might say something, it seems to me like she already views you two as a couple."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because she talks to you differently than she did. She's not intimidated by your station. It seems to me that she considers you both on equal ground. And while that might sound strange, it's actually a good thing. However, in the meantime you're getting all the stress that goes with being in a relationship without any of the rewards. I know waiting makes it easier and gives you both a chance to get comfortable with the idea, but if you ask me, whether either of you likes it or not, you're already passed the point of no return. You _are_ a couple."

From behind the two men, the flap on The Warden's tent flung open once more and Morrigan emerged, dressed in her own suit of enchanted drake scale armor and her wicked looking blade sheathed against her hip. Giving the hilt a slight adjustment, she strolled over to the fire. "I am ready." she said to The Warden.

"Going the arcane warrior route tonight, I see." he replied.

"'Tis a good distance to the castle and I'll have to hold my form for quite some time. I may not have enough magic left to defend myself should the need arise."

"Let's hope you won't need to."

"Agreed." Morrigan acknowledged. "Come, walk with me."

He rose from his spot on the log and joined his witch as they walked out of the camp and into the surrounding woods. Once at the tree line, they stopped and she turned to face him, looking him deeply in the eyes. He could see the nervousness inside her.

The witch's hands reached out and clasped his, "I shall not tarry longer than is needed." she said, "I leave Seth in your care until my return."

"Be careful. You know how I worry about you." he replied.

"You're concern, while appreciated, is not warranted. I shall be fine." she reassured, "Now kiss me, so that I may be on my way."

He willingly did as he was commanded, leaning closer to her and pressing his lips to hers in a deep and passionate kiss that neither wanted to break free from. He cherished the feeling of her soft lips against his and the emotions that were exchanged between them. With great reluctance, the witch pulled away, and readied herself for the transformation. Morrigan raised her arms into the air in a gesture that was now quite familiar to The Warden, as she prepared to change forms.

"Dwemer..." she said softly, "If something _were_ to happen to me, know that I love you and Seth very deeply. You are both everything to me."

"Don't talk like that. Nothing is going to happen."

"So we hope. But just in case, even _I_ would regret not having said anything."

He held her tightly in his arms and whispered into her ear, "I am yours. Now and forever."

There was a bright flash of light and the witch's form began to change. Her size grew ever smaller until her human form was replaced by a tiny gray field mouse with large black eyes and pink ears. A stifled squeal could be heard coming from the bushes behind them. The Warden knew it could only mean one thing.

"Leliana." he said to himself with a chuckle.

The little mouse simply rolled its eyes and darted off into the thick grass beyond the trees. And even though he could no longer see her, The Warden watched the open meadow with a dark uneasiness settling into the pit of his stomach. He had good reason to worry. In order for her to remain unseen, Morrigan would have to walk the entire way in her mouse-form, and that could take several hours. He knew there wasn't any way he would be able to sleep until she returned safe and sound.

"You can come out now." he called out, "She's gone."

At first, there was nothing. But soon his ears picked up the distinct sounds of rustling leaves and branches coming from just behind his left shoulder. The Warden turned to see Leliana, Zevran, and Alistair climbing out from behind a clump of bushes and into the small clearing.

"That was the most adorable thing!" Lelian squealed, "I had no idea she could do that."

"Not quite what I expected." Alistair said.

"And what were you expecting?" The Warden asked.

"I don't know. Something bigger and more hideous. A lot of teeth and fangs. Not some cute fluffy mouse."

"_I know_! Didn't you just love it?" the bard said, clasping her hands together.

"Maybe, when she returns, you'll get the opportunity to hold her in your hand." the elf remarked with his usual quasi-seriousness.

An excited gasp escaped the bard. "Do you really think she would?" she asked.

"Don't lose your head, Leliana. It is still Morrigan, after all." Alistair cautioned.

"I know." the bard sighed, "But the mouse was just so cute!"

"And you guys wonder why she asked me not to tell you."

* * *

The small mouse scurried as fast as she could across the open meadow between the forest and Castle Cousland, ducking from one large clump of grass to the next. It was highly important that she remained out of sight so far off from the safety of the trees. Morrigan's major concern wasn't so much being seen by the guards in the castle, who would most likely disregard the tiny rodent, as it was trying to avoid predators on the lookout for a meal. If she happened to be spotted by an owl or a fox, it would severely jeopardize her plan. Not that such animals actually posed any threat to her, but an encounter would force her to have to defend herself and could quite possibly cause her to be revealed. So she scampered across the ground as quickly as her tiny feet would take her; hiding behind one bush and then quickly darting to another while as she crept ever closer to the castle walls.

The entire process was very taxing and the witch was forced to periodically stop and rest in order to catch her breath. She loathed this form. For the most part, it served little practical use. It was the first animal form that she learned to take as a child and she never really considered it as anything more than practice. But for once, it was exactly the right form to take.

It took Morrigan several hours to finally reach the base of the castle wall, which, from her perspective, looked a hundred times higher than it usually did. She stealthily crawled her way to the main gate, which at this late hour was closed tight. There were still small gaps, however. Gaps that were far too small for anything but a mouse to slip through. With a bit of wiggling and twisting she was able to squeeze her tiny body through a crack that wasn't even an inch in height and emerged out the other side on the path that led towards the main courtyard just up the hill.

One of the things that Morrigan failed to consider was her reaction to seeing so many men clad in red robes walking around inside the castle. The sight irked her a great deal, surprising even herself. She never realized the affinity she acquired for the castle during almost a year of living there. The witch almost felt as if part of her had been violated to some degree as her eyes spied the window to her and The Warden's private chambers. She did her best to shrug off the feelings and concentrate on her mission.

She scrambled across the courtyard, dodging the many guards while they marched to and fro on their patrols, and hurried around the western edge of the main building. There she found a barred window that opened the way into the cellars beneath the castle. In her mouse form, Morrigan was easily able to slip between the bars and climb down the wall, arriving, at last, on the cellar floor. She ran across the floor to a secluded and shadowed corner where she was able to resume her human form without anyone noticing her.

With quiet and careful steps, the witch made her way the wooden door to the room that had been her workspace. She grabbed the metal ring in her hand and pushed the door open. The door creaked loudly on its rusty hinges, making a terrible racket that was sure to be heard if anyone was in the vicinity. Morrigan stopped in her tracks and listened for the telltale sounds of anyone approaching, but she heard nothing. Satisfied that she had not been compromised, the witch stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

The faint glow from the shield the protected the orbs was the only available light, but it was enough for Morrigan to see that her workspace had not been disturbed. Either she had been extremely lucky, or the Order was lax in it's search of the castle. Either way, Morrigan decided it was unwise to question the circumstances and quickly set to her work.

With a wave of her hand, the magic shield disappeared, revealing the metal chest containing the orbs stashed away against the back of a niche chiseled into the brick. She reached out and popped the clasp holding the chest shut and tilted the lid back. Morrigan peered into the chest to find all three orbs resting in their positions at the bottom. Touching them would mean instant death, however. Normally she had The Warden, or sometimes even Alistair, retrieve the orbs and place them on the pedestal which rested on the round table just to her right. But neither of them was available to do the task for her. She needed to figure how to move the smallest orb to the pedestal without touching it directly.

The witch decided that if she couldn't bring the orb to the pedestal, she would bring the pedestal to the orb. She snatched a dirty rag from one of the other small tables that were scattered about the room and wrapped it around her left hand. With her other hand she picked the pedestal off the table and held it close to the front of the chest. Morrigan tried hard to steady her shaking hand as she reached into the chest. She never tried to manipulate any of the orbs so closely before and hoped the cloth covering her hand would provide sufficient protection against its deadly affects.

As fast as she could, she quickly flipped the smallest orb out of the chest and onto the metal stand she was holding. Relief washed through her when she saw that she was still very much alive and a slight giggle even found its way out of her mouth. She rapidly turned to place the orb and the pedestal back onto the round table, but as she did her motions caused the orb to fly off the pedestal and fall to the stone floor with a loud _clack_!

"_Damn_!" she huffed as she looked down at the orb resting floor.

"Alright, Morrigan" she said to herself, trying to gather the nerve, "You can do this. 'Tis but a small orb. Nothing to be frightened of."

The witch knelt down and gingerly guided the magical ball back atop the pedestal with her fingertips, lightly pressing against the orb to hold it in place as she slowly and carefully stood up and set the pedestal on the table. Morrigan exhaled sharply and brushed a few stray strands of hair from her face with her still-shaking hand.

It took a few minutes of quiet pacing, but eventually Morrigan was able to calm herself enough to begin the process of activating the orb. She placed her arms at her side and began to concentrate, drawing up the magical power inside her and focusing it forward, towards the orb. The orb began to glow. Slightly at first, but becoming ever brighter the more energy the witch channeled into it. Soon, the entire room was filled with the bright light emanating from the magical sphere and it began to rise from its place on the pedestal and float in the air.

She could hear the orb speaking to her in its own way. As it called out to her, she put every effort into directing the signal westward, toward the Frostback Moutains and the legions of darkspawn that resided beneath them. At first, the orb resisted and was uncooperative. But, with a bit of convincing, Morrigan was able to get the effect she desired.

Beads of sweat formed on her brow from the strain. Her head was starting to ache considerably and her strength was rapidly being sapped away. Fortunately, her task was nearly finished. All that was left was to gently withdraw her power and guide the orb back down to its resting spot. Morrigan's magic was almost totally depleted when, at last, the orb gently floated back down to the pedestal. The bright light slowly faded until there was nothing of it left and the clear ball sat lifeless on the table.

The witch wound the rag once more around her hand and moved the pedestal, with the orb still on top, back towards the chest. She leaned in and tipped the orb back into its place with the other two inside the chest. Placing the pedestal back on the table, she then closed the chest tight and fastened the latches securely. With another wave of her hand, the magical field protecting the chest reappeared and cast its haunting glow over the room.

Morrigan sat down on the dirty cot in the center of the room and allowed herself a brief moment of rest in order to reclaim her strength. She held her forehead in her palm and fought desperately against the waves of nausea the filled her. But she couldn't rest long. Soon the sun would be rising and she would lose the protective covering of darkness. Reluctantly, she rose from the cot and slowly made her way to the wooden door.

She cracked the door open slightly in order to peek through the small sliver. But, as before, even the smallest movement caused the door to creak loudly. Shock ran through her when she heard the distinctive sounds of footsteps headed in her direction. Without closing the door shut, she ducked back behind it and hid. Her eyes quickly scanned the room back and forth, looking for someplace to conceal herself. Not finding any that were suitable, the witch did the only thing she could think of. She raised her hands in the air and her outline began to change. In a flash, she took the form of a tiny mouse once again.

"Did you see that?" a man's voice said.

"I didn't see anything. Your mind is playing tricks on you again." another replied.

"It came from in here."

Before Morrigan had the chance to hide in the dark corner, the door creaked and whined as it was opened. The door swung wide, revealing two large men clad in shiny armor. One of the men held a lantern out in front of him and carefully surveyed the room.

"I know I heard something." he said as he walked into the room, "And I saw something, too."

"Look!" the other man shouted, "Over in the corner."

"Aw, it's just a mouse." the man with the lantern said and walked over to where Morrigan was. "Cute little fella, aren't you?"

"Leave it alone. It might be carrying plague. You don't wanna get sick do you?"

"Bah! It's just a harmless little mouse. I'm going to take this little guy with me."

"What for? Do you intend to keep it as a pet?"

"Why not? It'll be better company than you ever were." the first man said as he bent down and scooped the witch up before she was able to scurry to freedom. "It's alright. I ain't gonna hurt you." he said as he raised Morrigan up in his steel-gloved hand.

"Come on. We've wasted enough time."

"I bet he's just looking for some food. I'm gonna take this little fella to the kitchen."

"Really now? And what do you intend to feed it? A rack of lamb?"

"No, you idiot. Everyone knows that mice like cheese." the first guard shot back. "You coming?"

"You go ahead. I'm going back to my post."

"Fine, suit yourself, then."

With Morrigan in hand, the guard made his way from the cellar, through the castle proper, and to the kitchen. He opened the door and went in, heading to the larder located along the back wall. He swung the door open and entered, going straight to the collection of cheeses that lined the shelf on the far wall. Removing one of his metal gloves, he grabbed one of the wheels and broke a piece off, offering it to the tiny witch he held in his hand.

Morrigan squirmed inside the man's hand, desperately trying to wiggle free. But he was able to force the hunk of cheese into her mouth, saying "There go you, little fella. You like that, don't you?"

She was unable to resist or spit any of the cheese out as the man kept pressing more into her tiny mouth. Her angry squeaks were misinterpreted for a sign of gratitude by the guard and he only smiled at her. He playfully rubbed his finger behind her pink ears, completely oblivious to the distress he was causing. When his hand moved underneath to stroke her chin she snapped at him, biting down hard.

"Yeow!" the man cried out as he dropped her to the floor.

Seizing her chance, Morrigan raced across the floor and out the larder. The confused man stood there, furiously trying to shake the stinging sensation from his finger before sticking it in his mouth. He was too preoccupied to notice the witch as she ran out of the kitchen and down the corridor.

Morrigan fled underneath one of the wooden side doors and into the very same storage room that had only weeks earlier served as her bride's chamber. She used her tiny clawed feet to grip the wooden shelf and climbed her way to the top. The little mouse jumped with all her might to a windowsill, barely able to reach it. With a quick look over her shoulder to see if she was being pursued, Morrigan chose to risk blowing her cover and quickly changed to bird-form, leaping from the stone ledge and taking flight.

She flew from the window to freedom, zipping across the courtyard and over the castle wall. The witch rose higher into the air while the first rays of the new day began to spread across the meadow. A desperate urgency compelled her tiny wings to carry her far from the castle and back to the safety of the forest beyond. Already, her belly was swelling and becoming bloated, making flight much more difficult for her than it normally was. But, luckily, the breeze was at her back, and a trip that took hours in mouse-form was reduced to mere minutes.

The Warden, who sensed his witch was returning, looked up to see a sparrow swoop down through the trees. She overshot the camp and landed near a thick clump of trees thirty or so yards away. Another bright flash accompanied her change back to her human form. The Warden ran over towards Morrigan, happy that his wife returned safely and eager to greet her.

"Come no closer!" she shouted and ran off to the trees.

His joy soon turned to worry, "What is it?" he asked.

"Cheese!" was the only word she could muster while waves of hot pain ran through her gut. And without saying anything else, Morrigan ducked behind the trees and out of sight.


	27. Chapter 27

**Part XXVII**

Teyrn Fergus Cousland is dead. Those four words stood out prominently at the top of a parchment which was nailed to the Chanter's board outside the chantry in Denerim. People passing by stopped and stared at the small slip of paper for a long time in an effort to absorb the tragic news. Some broke down in tears on the spot, while others refused to accept the information, choosing instead to believe it was a ruse of some sort, or at the very worst, an outright lie. All of them knew, however, that without the teyrn leading the forces of Ferelden, the Order would surely overrun Denerim and obliterate the city before the week was out.

The paper went on to describe the teyrn's heroic deeds in saving the city, and that without his efforts, the Order would have already taken Denerim. It was his courage and self-sacrifice that enabled the royal army to defeat the Order during the battle of the sewers. He was hailed as a hero and as an example of how all citizens should act during this time of crisis.

One individual quietly broke away from the large group that gathered in front of the board, and headed back towards to Market District of the city, trying his best not to draw any undue attention to himself. He checked over his shoulder from time to time to see if anyone was following before quickly ducking down one of the many dark alleyways. Stopping at an unassuming door, he knocked quickly three times before adding a single knock after a short pause.

The door cracked open slightly and a gruff voice said "What's the password?"

"Sausage." the man answered.

"What news do you bring?" the voice asked from behind the darkness of the door.

"Inform General Regorda that Teyrn Cousland has been slain. The forces of Ferelden are without their leader."

"Excellent. He will be made aware of this development at once. Now go before someone sees you." were the final words said before the door shut tight accompanied by the sound of a latch being locked in place.

The man continued to look around him as he hurried back towards the main streets. He attempted to lose himself amongst the crowd of people in an effort to confuse any would-be followers he might have had. When he was satisfied that his actions were not being observed, he rounded another corner leading down a side street. At the end of the street was an old warehouse that had been abandoned some time ago; its rotting boards and crumbling porch made it look as though the structure could collapse at any moment. He went up to the door and again knocked in the same manner as he did before. And again the door was cracked open and a password was requested. Upon giving the proper response, the door opened just wide enough for the man to enter, slamming back shut after he had done so.

Hiding around the corner at the start of the street were two men who witnessed the man's every move since he left the chantry. One silently nodded to the other in knowing recognition and they rushed off in the direction of the royal palace.

Inside the palace, Bann Teagan was directing his soldiers to take up positions to better protect the city against any more attacks the Order might try. He looked highly stressed and tired. The bann was covered in filth from head to toe. His once-shiny armor was dented, beaten, and caked with blood. He hadn't slept a wink in days. Still, he was plenty alert enough to listen when the two men arrived to tell him of what they'd seen.

"My lord, we've found where they're hiding." one of them said, "It's the old warehouse just off the Market District."

"The plan worked. It's about bloody time."

"We can move on them immediately."

"No, not yet. Let them think they're safe for now. If we let them think they've outsmarted us, they'll be more inclined to lower their guard. Then we can round up the entire lot of them all at once. Keep watch on that warehouse and let me know the instant you see anything."

"Yes, my lord." the man said, bowing, before he and his companion turned and hurried back out the door.

* * *

The line of horses filed through the main castle gate two-by-two, led by the Black Warden. He and his men returned to a hero's welcome from the soldiers in the castle as he held the Eye of Arvisarok high above his head for all to see; the large green emerald at its core twinkling in the bright midday sun. The members of the Order shouted words of praise to the dark figure as he rode into the center of the courtyard, dangling the artifact as if it were a trophy.

"My brothers, the time has come! Soon our destiny will be fulfilled!" he shouted out to the mass of bodies that gathered around him, invoking a loud cheer from the crowd.

Denolian, joined by the demon, who was in the guise of the blond woman, strolled down the steps to the courtyard in his usual smooth manner to greet the Black Warden. He held out his hand to the black robed figure, who in turn, dropped the amulet to the priest. A shiver of delight ran through Denolian as he clenched the shiny object in his hand.

"Spread the word to every corner of this land, my faithful followers." the priest said to the assembled mass. "Soon The Calling will commence and the Maker will once more shine his light down on this miserable world."

"So what now?" the Black Warden asked.

"Have your men inform each temple to make ready for the Ritual of the Eye." the priest answered.

"There are quite a few temples in Ferelden. That will take some time."

"We must make haste. Our time is running short. Tell them to be ready in no less than three days."

"Three days? That's not nearly enough time to contact all the temples. How are we supposed to accomplish that?"

"I'm quite certain you will find the means to motivate them, Warden."

As the priest turned to head back into the castle with his prize, the Black Warden called out to his men, issuing them orders to ride faster than the wind to every part of Ferelden. He told them to spread Denolian's message to every town, village, and shire in the land, and that failure meant disappointing the Maker, himself. The gathered soldiers scattered in every direction, mounting their steeds and charging out of the castle at full gallop.

"You are aware that The Grey Warden will try to stop you." the demon said to the Black Warden.

"I certainly hope he tries. Then we'll finally see which of us is the strongest." he replied as he climbed the steps to the castle and went inside.

"Be careful what you wish for..." the demon muttered to herself before turning to join the other men back in the castle.

* * *

The Warden sat on the large log by the fire peeling some wild potatoes and dropping them into a metal helm he was using as a makeshift pot. His companions often wondered about his culinary habits, thinking it was a bit out of the ordinary for him to find solace in cooking. But with all the death and violence that seemed to surround him on a continual basis, cooking was a way to be creative and help sustain life, rather than take it. He was able to lose himself in the task, and, for a least a short while, the violent world he lived in would fade away by some degree.

"I thought I might find you here. What are you making?" Morrigan asked as she sat down next to her warden, Seth in her arms, and glanced in the helmet.

"Garlic and herb wild potatoes." he said while his he swiftly peeled. Apparently, the use of any type of blade, large or small, seemed to come naturally to him.

"Potatoes? Those little knots that grow beside the road?" The witch asked, making a sour face. "Those are not fit for eating. They are entirely too bitter."

"You're supposed to cook them first, not eat them raw. Hardly anyone in Ferelden eats potatoes, but you can really do a lot with them."

"It would seem I have no choice but to take you at your word."

"That makes me think you don't you have a great deal of faith in my cooking." he said, pouting and trying to make his eyes look sad.

The witch groaned and cast him a glare, "Do not be foolish. You know full well that I enjoy your cooking. More so ever since Seth was born. 'Tis hard to prepare a meal when he exhausts me so."

"Trust me, your going to love these." he replied, standing up and heading for the small ravine a short distance from the camp, taking the helmet full of potatoes with him. "I have to rinse these off and put a little water in this. I'll be right back." he said and disappeared into the dark.

From behind, Leliana approached the fire and sat on another log across from the witch. The bard clasped her hands together in her lap. The two woman had gotten much better at being alone together, but there was an awkwardness about it that both of them felt. Morrigan was sure that Leliana still held feelings for her warden, and while she was fairly certain the bard would never act on them, it added tension, nevertheless.

"He is getting so big." Leliana said, gesturing at the squirming toddler on Morrigan's lap.

"Yes, he is." the witch replied, "the ache in my back being a testament to that fact."

"You and Dwemer are very lucky. I always wanted to have children of my own, but my life took me in a different direction."

"Luck played no part, I assure you. 'Twas his destiny to be born, as 'twas my destiny to give birth to him."

"I know all about the ritual. I meant you are both very fortunate to have him. He is a blessing to you."

"When I look into those large eyes of his and see some part of myself staring back, all the evils of this world seem but a distant memory."

"He does look very much like you." Leliana noted.

"Perhaps." Morrigan replied, "But I do see a great deal of his father in him as well."

"Really? Like what?"

"Mainly when he is voicing his displeasure. 'Tis a look I've seen his father give all too often."

"My ears are burning. What are you two talking about?" The Warden asked as he returned from the ravine, potato-filled helmet in hand.

"Nothing you would be interested in hearing, my sweet." Morrigan replied, causing The Warden to cast a suspicious stare at the witch.

"I'll bet." he said flatly.

Leliana giggled a bit, "That is the look, isn't it?" she asked.

"Indeed." Morrigan confirmed with a small grin.

The Warden could only offer a confused expression. Shrugging it out of his mind, he hung the helmet by a string over the fire and returned to his spot beside the witch.

"What are those?" Leliana asked, pointing to the helmet.

"I'm cooking some potatoes." The Warden answered.

"I did not know those were edible, but they smell rather delicious." the bard said as the simmering concoction in the helmet began to fill the air with the fragrance of garlic, parsley, and other spices.

"It does, indeed." the witch agreed.

The sound of footsteps caused all of them to look towards the sound to see who was approaching. Dyana stepped into the light of the fire and walked over near The Warden. She looked like a woman with a great deal on her mind, but was trying very hard not to show it.

"Is there something I can help you with, Captain?" The Warden asked the anxious looking woman.

"The king would like to discuss some things with you and the elf." Dyana informed.

"Alright. Let me go see what _his majesty _wants." The Warden said as he stood up and walked off in the direction of Alistair, who was over by where the horses were tethered.

"Won't you join us, Captain?" Leliana asked.

"If it's no trouble." she answered, moving a little closer to the fire.

"Well, do sit down. Your standing there is making me uneasy." Morrigan quipped.

"Yes, my lady." the captain replied.

"If you are going to be around us, the first thing you need to learn is that there are no lords and ladies here. Alistair, Dwemer, Morrigan, Zevran, and myself have gone through entirely too much together to stand on ceremony." the bard said.

"You only say that because you and the elf are the only ones lacking such titles." the witch retorted.

"Dwemer doesn't have a title." the bard countered.

"He most certainly does, do not the people still call him lord?"

"That is purely out of respect for him and you know it."

"Not true. For is he not The Grey Warden? A title of his own creation. There are many other Grey Wardens, but only he is _The_ Grey Warden, and is recognizable as such throughout all Thedas."

"Well that's not an official title."

"'Tis a unique one and rightfully earned; the greatest kind of all."

"Still, if he can't hold a _normal_ title, how does that make you a lady, then?" the bard inquired.

"'Tis because his name is still nobility and that was transferred to me when we were married."

"So does that make Seth a lord as well?"

"It does indeed, but by blood, not by marriage. Seth, however, is not just any lord."

"What do you mean?"

"'Tis he who is the heir to the Highever Teyrnir."

"How is that possible?" the captain asked.

"As stated before, Dwemer may not hold the title of Teyrn because he is a Grey Warden. Fergus' son was murdered, leaving him without an heir. And I, not having been born a Cousland, am not able hold the position either, unless I were to be the last of the Couslands."

"And that just leaves Seth." the bard said.

"Precisely."

The bard, satisfied with the witch's answer cast her glance over to the captain and said, "I see you and Alistair are starting to get very close."

"Not as close as everyone seems to think we are. We're just friends...for now." Dyana replied.

"Such an odd response." the witch quipped, "No person has the ability to chose the precise moment they shall fall in love. It happens whether 'tis desired or not."

"That might be so, but neither of us can afford to lose our focus right now." the captain explained, "The main concern is stopping the Order. We can't allow ourselves to be distracted from that."

"But you already are distracted. Something which any person with at least one good eye can plainly see. It affects you both."

"If that's so, what do you suggest I do about it, then?"

"End this charade for all our sakes, lest your distraction become our distraction as well. We can ill afford such internal strife while we have a job to do."

"But we're not ready for this. _I'm_ not ready."

"'Tis not something one can prepare for, either it happens or it does not."

"But I have no clue what I'm supposed to do. I've never done anything like this before."

"What are you saying?" the bard asked, "You've never been with a man?"

The captain's head fell and her gaze dropped as if she was ashamed, "No. Never." she replied softly.

"Well, well." the witch said with a grin of satisfaction on her face, "A vexing situation, indeed."

"Do not tease the poor woman, Morrigan. After all, didn't I watch you go through something very similar?" the bard said in defense of Dyana.

"I was not teasing. Perhaps I am merely aware of something which you are not."

"Oh, and what might that be?"

"Were I compelled to tell you, I would have already done so."

"What's that burning smell?" Dyana asked while she sniffed the air.

The sound of someone racing towards the fire caused all three women to glance in the direction of the sound. They saw The Warden frantically running up to the fire, yelling "Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit!" in rapid succession.

"I believe your potatoes are done." Morrigan said, chuckling.

"_Dammit_!" he fumed, inspecting the helmet's contents, "They're burned...ruined."

"That's alright, Dwemer." Leliana said as she stood up, "I'm not really all that hungry right now. I think I'm just going to turn in."

Dyana nodded and said, "I better be doing the same." while she rose from her spot and excused herself, joining the bard as they both disappeared beyond the firelight's reach.

When The Warden and the witch were alone, he looked at her and asked, "What were you ladies gossiping about?"

"I do not gossip. 'Tis a fool's practice."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Let me rephrase that: what were you ladies _talking_ about?"

"Your thinly veiled attempts at sarcasm are not appreciated." the witch hissed.

"_Thinly veiled_?" he asked, astonished, "I was trying to be openly sarcastic. I must be losing my touch. But you still haven't answered the question, which means you are avoiding it, which means it must be important."

"Impossible man!" Morrigan huffed, "Must you over-analyze everything?"

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"If you must know, the captain was sharing her concerns about her involvement, or lack of, with Alistair."

"Alistair was telling me something like that, too. He's afraid he'll mess everything up." The Warden replied, "What's got Dyana so concerned?"

"Her complete lack of experience."

"She's never been with a man before? I don't know if Alistair will be relieved or even more scared when he founds out."

"We are dealing with a pair of virgins, it seems. 'Twill be up to you and I to guide them."

"Since when do you play matchmaker?"

"Since we are trying to stop the Order. After we've accomplished that goal I care not what they do with themselves. But for now, we must bring their focus back to where it needs to be, lest their distractions cause us to fail. In order to do that we shall need to remove the source of the tension, that being their hesitation toward one another. The sooner they get on with it, the less whining both of them will do, and the happier I shall be."

"You're such a softy. It warms my heart. Really." The Warden said, grinning widely.

"I suppose calling you an ass at this point is becoming redundant, no matter how true." Morrigan replied sharply. "Tell me, what did Alistair and the elf need of you?"

"They were thinking it might be a good idea to get word to Denerim about what's going on. If Denolian is successful, Fergus needs to be warned about what could be headed his way."

"A wise notion. How do you intend to accomplish this?"

"I'm going to send Zevran and Leliana. They stand the best chance of getting through."

"You could always send Dyana, as well." the witch suggested.

"And make Alistair even more of a nut case than he is now? He'd worry himself stupid."

The witch sighed, saying, "You are probably right. I suppose we shall just have to endure this childishness."

"I wonder if the old group used to talk about you and me this way. You know, back during the blight."

"You and I kept our business to ourselves."

"That might be true, but it didn't stop them from giving me an earful about it every day."

"Their disapproval was repeatedly made known to me as well."

"Now we know their concerns were unfounded. We're still together after all this time."

"We shall see if the same can be said for Alistair and Dyana."


	28. Chapter 28

**Part XXVIII**

Leliana and Zevran had been dispatched by The Warden to get word to Denerim of what was transpiring. Captain Dyana suggested, however, that the pair first head south and rendezvous with Arl Eamon's men in the western Bannorn. The Warden agreed that locating the arl and informing him of the situation was a wise move. If the mad priest was successful in creating his unholy legion, Denerim would need Eamon's men more urgently than ever.

The elf and the bard rode as swiftly as their steeds would carry them, pushing the poor beasts to the limit of endurance in order to reach Eamon's camp in less than a day. They knew that there was precious little time left to act now that the Order was in possession of the amulet. Whatever Denolian had planned, he was sure to attempt it very soon. Everything he was waiting for had finally fallen into place.

It was just after nightfall when Zevran and Leliana found Arl Eamon's encampment. He and his men were exactly where Dyana said they would be; camped in a wide grassy field, with a few small trees scattered here and there. The location was far from any settlements and in one of the most remote regions of the Bannorn. The perfect place to hide, if one were trying to hide an army. Which is precisely what Eamon was trying to do.

"Arl Eamon!" the bard called out to the silver-haired man standing near one of the many fires that dotted the field. He was surrounded by his top advisors and officers who were counseling him with potential strategies and tactics.

"Leliana!" the arl cried back in recognition, a smile stretching across his weary face, "By the Maker, it's good to see you. What news does The Warden send?"

"Quite a bit, and little of it good, I'm afraid."

"I see." the arl said as he stroked his beard, "Please, continue. I want to hear everything."

"We were able to find out that the leader of the Order, Denolian, intends to create a hellish army of disfigured hellspawn." Leliana explained, "He plans on unleashing this horde against more than just Ferelden. He wants nothing less than the conquest of all Thedas."

The arl's brow tightened into a stern yet thoughtful look "Then we must act quickly in order to prevent them from ever creating those monsters."

"That's what The Warden is working on now. But Denolian has everything he needs to create his army, he only needs to perform a dark ritual. So, in case The Warden fails, you and your men should head to Denerim. Both he and Alistair feel that will be the first place Denolian will send his Demon army."

"Alistiar...? So he is well, then?"

"Yes. Captain Dyana was able to free him from Castle Cousland."

"And that damned fool decides to stay with The Warden rather than coming back here as he should have done. The people need to know their king is alive and well. It will give them hope. But not if he gets his fool head cut off first.""

"I am certain he will be fine. After all, he has his captain to look after him."

"I can only pray that you are right."

"Our main issue is getting you and your men to Denerim as quickly as possible."

"I was told it was too dangerous to go to the capital. The Order's army waits outside the city gates. My men would stand no chance against their forces."

"That _is_ a problem." the bard said as her face scrunched up in thought. "You haven't been seen by anyone have you?"

"Three of the Order's soldiers followed the captain here. We saw them not long after she arrived, but my knights were able to run them down and eliminate them. Other than that, we have been able to remain undetected so far."

"If only you had more men. Then we would stand a much better chance of getting to Denerim." Leliana said.

"Perhaps we only need to make them think there are more..." Zevran offered.

"What are you getting at?" the bard asked.

"I believe I may have an idea." the elf replied, "Tell me, these three soldiers, where are their bodies?"

"East of here, just before the forest's edge." the arl answered, "But they've been dead for more than a week. What could you possibly need with their rotting corpses?"

"Its not the bodies I need, only their clothes."

"That's only three uniforms? What about the rest? Do you plan on making them invisible?"

"Yes, in a manner of speaking."

* * *

The Order sentry stood proud and rigid at his post. Guarding the rear gate might not be the most exciting or glamorous assignment available, but it was an important post, nonetheless. He was the first line of defense against anyone trying to sneak into the back of the castle. At least that what he told himself. In reality, the rear gate was a mostly forgotten entrance that was rarely used. The young guard stood in the same spot, night after night, with the gate shut tight; unopened and unused.

He knew it was because of his age and inexperience that he was given such a _prestigious_ duty. The sentry had only finished his training the same week the army was loaded onto the transport ships and launched toward Ferelden. He was among the last group to earn their blades before the invasion.

The big battle to decide everything was coming in the not-too-distant future, the young guard could feel it in his bones. He knew his place was out on the front lines were he could be a proper example of leadership and courage. Instead, he was trapped at the back end of the castle guarding a gate that no one ever used. It was a complete waste of his talents, he felt.

There was a strange sound, though he was unsure the direction it came from. He looked both left and right, but the man's eyes saw nothing. Soon a foul smell seemed to float through the air. The smell was of something foul and unclean. In an instant, a dark shadow popped up behind the startled guard. He felt something grab the back of his head and snatch it backwards, exposing his neck to a sharp blade that smoothly slid across, slicing deep into the man's throat and severing his jugular vein. The doomed sentry slowly fell to the ground as his life bled from him. The last thing his eyes saw before they closed forever was the sight of a hurlock licking his blood from its blade; its face curled up in a devilishly perverse grin.

"_Darkspawn_..." was the very last thing the poor man would ever say.

Denolian was in the castle study, pouring over ancient texts in an effort to make sure everything was perfect for the coming ritual. The flames in the fireplace danced behind him as if guided by some unheard symphony while he hastily scribbled down notes on the many pieces of parchment he had scattered about the desk. The breeze from the opening door, which caused the flames to flicker and the pages to ruffle, broke the priest's concentration and he cast an angry glare in the direction of the disturbance.

"I said I was not to be disturbed. What is it?" he asked in an annoyed tone.

The guard, who had just entered the study, swallowed hard, "We've got a bit of trouble, my lord." the man said nervously, "We're getting reports of darkspawn attacks all around the castle."

"Darkspawn? There aren't any darkspawn in this part of Ferelden. You're men are seeing things."

"Yes, my lord. That's what I said at first, too. But one of the guards found the rear gate sentry's body. His throat had been slit. I went to see for myself and saw the body. The young man couldn't have been more than nineteen. Twenty at most."

"Is this leading somewhere, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, my lord, it is. You see, while we were searching the area where the man was killed, a hurlock jumped out of the shadows and attacked us. Fortunately we were able to kill it before it got any of us."

"You say you saw this yourself? What other sightings have there been?" The priest asked, his attention now fully devoted to the soldier.

"A group of genlocks appeared in the courtyard and needed to be taken care of and a hurlock alpha was seen in the main hall. It took five men to handle it."

From outside the window, the shouts of men began to fill the night air. The familiar clang of metal on metal echoing through the room informed Denolian that another clash was taking place just outside. The priest walked over to the window, his graceful steps making it appear as though he was gliding across the floor, and looked out to see four of his soldiers engaged with another group of darkspawn. The group was mixed, being made up of two hurlocks and three genlocks.

"These attacks seem to be getting more frequent." the guard said to the priest who stared out the window at the conflict below.

"Alert all your men. Secure the entire castle." Denolian said as he spun about on his heels and walked back over to the desk. "I don't know how, but this is The Grey Warden's doing. I'm sure of it."

"Right away, my lord!" the man exclaimed with a bow and he turned and exited the room.

"It seems I underestimated you again, Warden." Denolian said aloud, speaking to a man who wasn't there, "I guess your bag of tricks is deeper than I anticipated. But you are only postponing the inevitable. It's far too late for even you to stop me now."

* * *

The witch would scour the texts for the better part of a day, taking Seth to the ravine near the camp and allowing him to splash around in the water while she sat down on the bank, propped herself up against a tree, and stuck her nose between the pages of some tome. Her study only being interrupted long enough for her to blurt out the occasional "_No, no_! We do not put frogs down our pants, young man. Put it back where you found it. Do not give me that look. If you know what is good for you, you shall do as you are told this instant. No, I do not want that filthy thing. Put it back where you got it. There, 'tis more like it. Now, behave yourself. Your mother has reading to do." or something very similar.

It had taken Morrigan days, spending hours on end deciphering the books and journals of the priests that once occupied the ruined temple many centuries ago, but slowly, she was able to put all the pieces in place as to what the final moments were in the chamber deep underground. In the process, she uncovered a possible way of destroying Denolian.

"The bodies we found in the cavern beneath the ruin," Morrigan explained to The Warden, "were indeed those of the priests. It looks as though they realized that Denolian had betrayed them, but it was already too late. They were unable to prevent him from stealing the souls of more than two hundred dalish elves."

"But the amulet was trapped there all these years, why didn't Denolian take it with him?" The Warden asked.

"Apparently, there was a commotion and the priests saw their moment to turn on Denolian. He was in a weakened state after the ritual and they managed to cast him out, wounding him in the process."

"And without Denolian to hold the creatures at bay, they turned on the priests and killed them."

"Precisely." the witch confirmed.

"Does that mean we have to wait until _after_ the ritual to attack him? There has to be another way."

"There is a small amount of time just after the ritual, whereby the souls of the damned may be restored. Your timing must be exact. However, the ancient priests managed to merely wound him. I do not think simply attacking him while he is in a weakened condition will be sufficient."

"What would you suggest I do, then?"

"The Eye seems to be the key. 'Tis the source of his power." Morrigan replied, "We must destroy it. Only then, I believe, will Denolian truly be mortal."

"I thought you said destroying magical artifacts was bad. It could tear the fabric between our world and the Fade."

"And you are correct. There is know way of knowing for sure what the outcome will be. However, it would seem to be the only course of action currently at our disposal."

"Why can't anything ever be easy?" The Warden grumbled.

"'Tis because you are The Grey Warden, and on you rests the fate of the people of Ferelden's very souls."

"_I_ wanted to be a chef." he sighed. "Alright, now that we know_ how,_ all we need to know is when."

"We can assume that Denolian is most certainly in possession of the amulet by now. If that truly is the case, 'twill not be long. Merely a matter of days."

"They should also be receiving some unexpected visitors soon, if they haven't started to already. We can't risk getting any closer to the castle to really be able to tell what's going on in there for sure."

"It would be wise to keep the temple under observance. I would imagine any activity could signal that the ritual is approaching."

"What can you tell me about this ritual?" The Warden inquired.

"A great deal, actually. In the beginning, a beacon is sent out to all the faithful. 'Tis known as 'The Calling' and informs the Order's members that the time has come." the witch explained, "They'll gather at the temple and be given ceremonial wine. After a prayer is said, all will then turn in the direction of the beacon and go into a trance, while the Eye of Arvisarok in invoked. The amulet, then drains the very lifeforce from those assembled, drawing those forces into itself, whereby Denolian may feed on them."

"He feeds on them?"

"Denolian is an ancient creature, less than a god yet more than a demon. He survives by consuming the souls of those foolish enough to follow him. If we fail to act before he is able to draw strength from the amulet, his power shall increase a hundred fold."

"We'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen, then."

"How do you propose we do that?"

"I don't have the slightest clue. But it'll come to me."

In another part of the camp, the young warden, Silas, stood and stared at the starry sky above. He was deep in thought contemplating everything that had transpired so far and his place in all of it. His injuries from the cave-in were mostly healed, with the exception of a wound that stayed fresh now matter how hard he tried to close it. It was the sharp twinge of guilt that tugged at his soul endlessly. He had betrayed the only person he respected and the stain wasn't going to wash away anytime soon, if it ever did.

He was trying to live with the fact that everything the Order did was because of his one selfish mistake. He cursed the two men that convinced him to turn on The Warden and Morrigan, and cursed himself doubly for allowing himself to agree to it. He never meant for anyone to get hurt, let alone for the entire country to be invaded. The blame for each person that lost their lives so far was sitting squarely on his young shoulders. Perhaps the witch was right about him. Perhaps he was nothing more than a spoiled brat, who they were better off without.

"I've been looking all over for you." a voiced called out from behind. It was Alistair's. "What are you doing out here by yourself?"

"Nothing. I just needed to clear my head for bit, that's all." Silas replied as he hoped the king wouldn't pursue the topic any further, while at the same time wishing he did.

"You've been keeping to yourself a great deal lately. Something must be bothering you. Care to tell me what it is?"

"It's nothing. Really." Silas answered meekly.

"Listen, Silas..." Alistair said in the most reassuring tone he could muster, "Don't let Morrigan bother you. I've known her just as long as Dwemer. She and I didn't get along all that well at first, either. I hated her. I thought she was nothing but an evil bitch who was more interested in increasing her own power than she was helping us with the Blight."

"I've seen you two together. You sound like you still hate each other." the young warden noted.

"Is that so?" Alistair said with a chuckle, "I guess that might be how it looks. But the truth is, I don't think either of us knows any other way. It's the only way we know how to talk to each other, though it's not nearly as hateful as it used to be. While it might seem that we never have anything nice to say, I've grown to respect her a good bit, and I think she even respects me as well."

"There's a big difference between you and me, though. She has a good reason to hate me. If I was her, I'd probably feel the same way."

"What you did was pretty stupid, I'm not going to deny that. But despite what you might think, everything that's happened isn't your fault. Morrigan knows that as well as anyone."

"How can you say that? If it wasn't for me, Ferelden wouldn't be dealing with some raving lunatic right now."

"Is that so? Do you honestly believe the Order was able to gather and train such a large army in only matter of days? They've been preparing for this for a long long time. You might have given them a means to separate Dwemer and Morrigan, but if you hadn't, they would have just as easily found another way. The best thing you can do now is learn from your mistake and move on. Dwelling on it won't do anyone any good, least of all you."

"I...I'll try." Silas said, "Thanks, Alistair. I mean it."

"That's what I'm here for." the king replied with a smile, "Us Grey Wardens have to stick together. We might be responsible for protecting the lives of the innocent, but even we need a shoulder to lean on now and again."

"You said before that you were looking for me. What for?"

"Dwemer thinks that we should keep an eye on the temple. He figures there will be activity there when the Order prepares to make their move. He asked me to tell you to take the first watch."

"At least _he_ still seems to have some faith left in me, even if I don't deserve it."

"It's his nature to be forgiving. He's the most understanding person I've ever known."

"Morrigan doesn't seem like the type of woman who would go for that."

"Maybe not. But I honestly don't think it could have worked any other way." Alistair concluded, "Either way, you need to get yourself set up by the forest's edge so you can watch the temple. Will you need any help with that?"

"No, I can handle it. Thanks, anyway." Silas replied, "How long before someone comes to replace me?"

"I'll be taking over at sunrise so you can get some sleep."

"Alright, I guess I'm off, then. See you at sunrise." the young warden said with a wave to the king as he stepped out of the clearing and made his way to the tree line, which was some fifty or so yards to the north.

Alistair waved back and turned to head towards his own tent. He thought about the young warden and hoped Silas was truly able to learn from his mistakes. Living with regret was a horrible experience for anyone to have; something Alistair was intimately aware of.

He wasn't much younger than Silas was when Arl Eamon sent him off to become a templar at the request of Lady Isolde. Alistair was furious at being cast off like a pile of rubbish. He wanted to hurt the arl just as badly as he had been hurt. Alistair stayed angry with Eamon for a very long time, even spurning the arl by refusing to see him when the arl would come to visit.

His entire life, Alistair was nothing more than the bastard prince who had to be kept hidden away from view. He was treated terribly by anyone who knew his true lineage for fear that Alistair would one day rise up and try to overthrow his brother. Arl Eamon was the only real father the young prince ever knew and he was devastated when the arl suddenly shipped him off to the Chantry. He still had the image of the arl's hazel eyes in his head and how hurt they looked when Alistair screamed how much he hated Eamon for betraying him.

Eventually, Eamon stopped visiting him. Alistair was convinced he had turned the arl away just as he had so many others. A part of him died inside and a feeling of true loneliness fell over him. It was only when his friend, The Warden, presented Alistair with the locket he found, Alistair's mother's locket that he smashed against the wall in rage, did he finally understand that Eamon never stopped caring. The small gold locket had been fixed, good as new, by Eamon's own hands.

Alistair was almost denied the chance to reconcile with the arl, who had fallen deathly ill after being poisoned by the bloodmage, Jowan. Thankfully, however, The Warden and his companions were able to locate the Urn of Sacred Ashes and a cure was made which restored the arl to health. Alistair was able to talk to Eamon and the two men reconnected with one another. Alistair hoped Silas would find a similar resolution to his pain.

"Can I have a word with you, Alistair?" Dyana called out to him as he neared his tent. She walked over to him from her place near the fire, her round blue eyes twinkling in the firelight.

"We're on a first name basis now, are we?" he replied with a coy grin.

"I...I didn't mean...I meant your majesty." she stammered, caught off guard by his response.

"I was only joking, Dyana. What did you want to talk about?"

"Oh." she replied, while she nervously rubbed her hands in front of her, "You see, the thing is...well...how can I put this?"

"Just spit it out. You can talk to me about anything."

"Very well. Here goes..." she said as she moved in closer, stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his in a tender kiss.

The king stood there for a moment in astonishment, having been rendered speechless for once. His eyes were as large as gold sovereigns. "Wow...uhm...wow..." was all he could say.

"I shouldn't have done that. I...I'm sorry." the captain said, quickly turning to run away. But Alistair grabbed her arm before she could escape and spun her back around to face him.

"Don't go." he said, "It was unexpected, that's all. I rather enjoyed it. What made you decide to kiss me?"

"Because I knew you would never make the first move. So I figured I might as well."

"What happened to waiting?"

"To hell with waiting." Dyana quipped, "We're about to risk our lives. I can't do that without letting you know how I really feel about you. I was afraid I might not get another chance. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life living with that regret."

"Well, I'm glad you decided to go for it." he replied, "Now let me return the favor."

Alistair leaned down and kissed Dyana, softly at first and unsure of his technique. But soon he wrapped his arms around her and she willingly melted into them. He was nearly thirty years old and had never kissed a woman before. He used to assure himself that the experience was overrated and that he wasn't missing out on anything. But now he knew he had been wrong. Dead wrong. Kissing Dyana was the most wonderful experience in his life and had been well worth the wait.


	29. Chapter 29

**Part XXIX**

Just before sunrise, the dark shadow of a human form could be made out exiting the king's tent. The black silhouette sneaked across to the other side of the camp and quickly ducked inside Captain Dyana's tent. Another dark form arose from Alistair's tent, and stood gazing across the camp at the small tent at the other end. Even though the shadows were pitch black against the pale pre-dawn sky, a dopey grin was clearly visible. That kind of grin that could only say that something new and remarkable was just experienced for the very first time.

"Good morning, Alistair." a sinister voice said from behind the king. He swung around to see Morrigan standing just a few feet away from his tent.

"Morrigan!" the shocked man exclaimed, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to see that things between you and the captain seem to be going rather well." the witch replied with a wry smile on her face.

"You can't tell a soul! Please promise you won't tell anyone." Alistair pleaded.

"Why would I ever do such a thing? To do so would only invite more grief into my life. Unlike other woman, I do not spend my time idly gossiping about matters of the heart and other such nonsense. I care not what you and that shrew of yours do with one another, save to say this: 'Tis about bloody time, now we can all stop being bothered with this distraction."

"I know, coming from you, that's a compliment. I didn't know you cared."

"You may believe what you wish."

"Admit it. You're happy for me."

"The only thing I shall admit is that 'tis nearly sunrise and you are to replace Silas at his post. Which was my original reason for being here, so that I may remind you."

"Oh, right. I nearly forgot about that." Alistair said, suddenly remembering. "Where's Dwemer? Why couldn't he tell me?"

"He and Seth are doing something neither of them seems to be able to do well when they're apart: sleeping. Given how rare the occurrence is, 'tis only fair that I allow them to do so as long as possible."

"Sleep. Now there's something I sure could use a great of right about now." Alistair said, his drooping eyes clearly indicating he had been doing something else during the night.

"You've only yourself to blame. Had you been sleeping instead of spending your evening entwined with the captain, you would not have t his problem."

"Some problems are worth having." the king replied with a grin. "I better be getting myself ready to replace Silas. I told him sunrise so he'll be expecting me soon."

"I think that would be wise."

The day dragged on into the afternoon, which eventually gave way to evening. Specks of starlight began to dot the sky overhead until all the twinkling orbs revealed themselves, glistening like diamonds against the darkness. And as the campfire cast its glow over the area, The Warden searched for his witch. There was something he needed to talk with her about. And while, the conversation would most likely spiral downwards into the pits of darkness that only Morrigan could fathom, it was something they had to discuss, nonetheless. Still, however, he was positive he was going to end up regretting it. When he at last found her back at their tent, he grimaced and prepared himself for the worst.

Morrigan knew he would eventually come looking for her and she knew exactly what she would say to him when the time came. After all, he was sure to want to talk to her about staying behind to tend to their son while he and the others invaded the castle. Of course, as there was no one else around who could care for the boy, The Warden's point was generally valid under normal circumstances. Not this time, however. This time she had already prepared an argument of her own as to why she should be allowed to accompany him. If she could prove to him there was indeed way to have both Seth cared for and her to join him, then he would have no choice but to relent and grant her wish. The hard part, though, was being able to provide a convincing argument.

To that end, she devised a truly unique strategy; she would persuade her warden by showing him her latest form. Although she hadn't actually ever taken this new form, she felt relatively confident that she could. Still, it was the best plan she could come up with that would allow her to be with The Warden when he and the others attacked the castle. The pit of her stomach was in knots for fear that if he went into the castle without her, he wouldn't come back out alive.

"Hey," The Warden said as he approached her, "I've been looking for you. I need to talk to you about something."

"Permit me to hazard a guess..." Morrigan began in a knowing tone as she cocked her head slightly, "you wish for me to remain here and care for Seth while you and the others make your assault."

"Oh," he replied, stunned, "I see you've been thinking about it too. So...since we already agree, there's no real point in having this conversation. Which, more than likely, would have ended badly for me."

He smiled weakly and began to turn away, only to be frozen in place by the sound of the witch's "Hold."

"What?"

"I never said I agreed to anything."

"I was afraid of that..." he groaned, "Who else is going to take care of him? We can't take him inside the castle with us and we sure as hell can't leave him out here alone."

"I am aware if that. However, there is another option."

"Why am I not surprised that you would say that?"

"You do know me well, my love." the witch replied with a sly grin, "Do you not remember that I have family in Redcliffe?"

The Warden's face scrunched up in confusion, "You mean Aniel?" he asked. "But Redcliffe is almost two days at full gallop from here. There isn't enough time."

"What if I were to tell you I might have a quicker way?"

"Alright...I'm listening."

"I believe I can take a new form which will drastically reduce the time needed."

"You would have to be able to carry him, so that rules out any birds. So what can you turn into that is faster than a horse yet can still carry Seth?"

"A high dragon." the witch answered as confidently as she could.

"A high dragon? I thought you said you needed to study the beast for long periods of time in order to learn enough about it to assume it's shape. How many dragons have you had the chance to study?"

"Other than those we've battled, none. But I've learned much of those we fought. Also, if you will remember, Flemeth instilled in me blood from a high dragon. I already carry the essence of such a beast inside me. To assume the creature's form should pose little problem."

"Is it safe for you to even try?"

"There is nothing for you to worry about. I shall be in complete control the entire time."

"That doesn't answer my question..."

Morrigan let out a long sigh, "Compared to most things I've come across, my attempts should prove to be relatively safe. However, as with all things, there is some risk, albeit slight." she said, trying to be as reassuring as she could.

"How slight are we talking here?"

"There is a small risk that I could become forever trapped between forms should I fail my attempt and lose control." she explained as she raised her arms and softly placed her hands against his chest, already planning her rebuttal, "However, I shall not lose control and will simply revert back to my human form should I prove unsuccessful." she said, lightly tracing her finger across his chest.

"How sure can you be of that? Can you promise me you won't lose control?"

"I can promise nothing, merely that I..."

"No, you can't promise.." he interrupted, "Why should I let you do this if there's a chance you could be seriously hurt? Maybe if you actually were able to be around more high dragons..."

"Dwemer, please..." she interrupted in turn, "I can do this. You must let me try."

"What are you so afraid of?" he asked.

"I fear nothing." she retorted smugly.

"Like hell you do." The Warden quipped in return, "I can sense what you're feeling, remember? You're scared to death about something, and it has nothing to do with Seth."

"I...I..."

"Morrgan...talk to me."

"I fear for your life." she replied softly, "The battle that lies before you bodes ill for us both. Never before have I had such a feeling of dread. If I am not there at your side to aid you, I fear the worst shall happen. I fear you shall be killed."

"Morrigan..."

"Please, Dwemer. Do not do this to me. Allow me some small sliver of pride." the witch urged, pleading him with her soft golden eyes, "Do not make me beg."

"Alright." The Warden said, sighing deeply, "You win. But I want to be there when you try it."

"Then we are agreed." the witch replied, instantly perking up.

"Oh-Ho!" The Warden cried out, "Look who turned into quite the actress."

"You played me." he grumbled, "_Again_!"

"No, my love. When it comes to your life; 'tis something even _I_ would beg for." the witch purred, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling herself closer to him.

"Well, if you're going to do this, let's see what you've got." he said, looking down at her as he held her in his arms.

"You wish me to try now?" she asked, cocking her head back a bit.

"No one else is around. It seems like as good a time as any."

"I suppose..." Morrigan replied as she thought, "Very well. I shall do as you ask."

The witch checked in all directions to make sure the coast was truly clear of any curious onlookers. While she was confident she would succeed, if by some small chance she was to fail, Morrigan greatly wished that no one see her. Even the presence of The Warden gave her a small knot in her gut.

She always wanted to give off the appearance of elegance, especially to him. But if she found it harder to maintain control than she anticipated, her grace could be compromised for the sake of survival. As her warden would surely say, "You'll end up on your arse, looking like an ass." The witch was terrified of being embarrassed.

Walking away from their tent, Morrigan moved to the center of the clearing. Once she found what she considered to be a suitable spot, she began to ready herself. As still as a statue, she stood there while she controlled her breathing. She drew in long even breaths of air, and calmly exhaled them back out again. When her mind was clear and her focus was centered, the witch slowly raised her arms into the air as a soft glow started to envelope her.

Her outline began to quiver and change. It was growing slowly larger, morphing into something else. The Warden had seen his witch change forms enough to know that this wasn't easy for her. Normally she could shift her shapes in an instant, easily changing from one form to the next. But this was giving her quite a bit of trouble. The light prevented him from seeing her face, but he could still tell his witch was struggling.

The light flickered and danced as Morrigan's shape lengthened. A long tail sprouted from her and grew, slithering outwards. Tiny nubs on her back slowly began to turn into wings, spreading wide and covered in scaled black skin. The Warden watched as the witch's neck stretched upward, and long sharp horns started to protrude from the sides of her head.

It had taken her agonizing minutes to get this far. The form was nearly complete. But no matter how hard the witch willed herself, she couldn't find the strength to fully form. She felt her magic begin to drain away from her, and her outline slowly began to shrink. Try as she might, her grip on the new form was starting to slip, and she was finding it impossible to hold on.

Seeing his witch's struggle, The Warden shouted, "Don't give up! You can do this! You almost got it."

Morrigan heard her warden, and from somewhere deep within, she found the strength to try a bit harder. Digging as deeply as she could, the witch forced herself to throw every ounce of energy she had left into one last surge. There was a yell and a bright flash, accompanied by a wave of energy, that knocked The Warden backwards. He pulled himself back up and brushed the dirt from himself. When the dust finally settled, standing before him was a massive high dragon.

"I knew you could do it." he said, smiling.

The dragon let out a deafening roar while spreading its huge wings and kicked up the dust again with a few good flaps.

"Yeah, right. You say that, but I bet you'll still be impossible to deal with for the next six months. Admit, you're rather pleased with yourself, aren't you?"

The dragon responded with several different grunts and growls.

"Yes. I understand what you're saying perfectly fine. Why wouldn't I?"

The dragon let out a growl and rolled its eyes.

"Oh, right. There is that." he said.

"_Dragon_!" and excited yell came from someone behind The Warden. He turned to find Alistair standing there with the biggest look of shock of his face, his hand trying to go for his blade but frozen in place by fear.

"Don't." The Warden said to the dragon, "You'll scare the poor man to death. And if you do that, who will you have left to pick on?"

The dragon grunted. It leaned it's long black neck forward. The large dagger-sized teeth hung mere inches from the king's face as the dragon moved in for a closer look. Its breath blew the king's hair back and dried the large beads of sweat that were forming on his brow. The nervous man stood there, panting rapidly. He looked as though he was close to passing out.

"Alright, you've had your fun. Stop scaring him. You're going to have him shitting himself."

The dragon cast a glance back the seemed to indicate that it found the idea appealing.

"Morrigan..."

"Morrigan...?" the terrified king asked.

"Yes, it's Morrigan."

"That's not very damn funny!" Alistair fumed, still shaken, "You could have given me a heart attack. Wait...you'd probably want that..."

The dragon, still greatly pleased with itself, strolled closer to the widest part of the clearing. The beast spread it's wings and cast a look at The Warden. "Stand back, she's going to try to fly." he warned.

"It might be dark, but they can still see you from the castle, so be careful!" he shouted to the creature, who gave a knowing nod in return.

With a mighty flap, the dragon leaped into the air, feverishly beating its wings in an effort to propel itself airborne. Desperately it clambered in vain to remain aloft, but with a loud _thud,_ the beast came crashing back to the ground. The dragon let out a long growl of frustration that made the earth tremble, then readied itself to try again. It gave another mighty heave and pushed itself upward. Its massive wings strained against the air to gain altitude. Dust flew everywhere, forcing The Warden and Alistair to shield their faces as they watched. Finally, the great wings filled with air and dragon pushed its way into the sky.

* * *

The three riders, Zevran, Leliana, and one of Arl Eamon's knights, Darren, rounded the last turn in the road before the city of Denerim. Each of them were clad in the black armor of the Order of Bohlen. To the south, Eamon lie hidden behind a ridge, with he and his men ducking low in the tall grass waiting for the elf's signal.

The Order's camp spread out covering nearly all the grassland that rolled peacefully from the forests edge to the shoreline. Hundreds of fire pits dotted the landscape, each surrounded by several small white tents. A thick morning fog hung over the field, making the far edge of the camp difficult to view.

"Now is when the fun begins." the elf said to his companions with that all-too-familiar gleam in his eyes. He kicked his feet into the sides of his horse and raced towards the most important looking tent he could see, followed by the others.

"Arl Eamon comes with his massive army!" the elf shouted as he rode, "Prepare yourselves! He's on his way with more than ten thousand men!"

A man wearing extremely fancy black polished armor stepped out of the important looking tent and held his hand up towards the elf, biding him to halt. "What's all this about?" he asked.

"Arl Eamon's army is only a few miles to the west. He has more than ten thousand men with him."

"Impossible." the important man said, "Eamon barely has more than a thousand men of his own. Where could he have gotten so many?"

"He's spent the passed two weeks gathering his forces. Nearly all of the southern banns sent men. I'm telling you he's riding this way."

"It has taken him a rather long time to get here. Perhaps he has had the time to gather more men. If everything is as you say, what would you suggest I do about it?"

"Send every available man and crush him in the valley to the west, before he can reach the city. I think that would be the most obvious choice."

"You heard him!" the man shouted to the other, less important people gathering around him. "I want every last man to be ready in five minutes. If we can get to him before he gets out of the valley, we'll have the higher ground as well as superior numbers. They won't stand a chance."

"You'll lead us into battle." the important mad said, pointing directly at the elf, "Meet me at the head of the formation."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Zevran replied, grinning slyly.

Soon, every last soldier in the camp was assembled and formed into columns, ready to march. The three "messengers" found their place at the head of the formation next to the important general, who raised his hand high into the air, and quickly dropped it, giving the order to begin.

The army moved out, marching at a rapid pace in order to confront the perceived threat. Thick clouds of dust were churned up as beast and man rushed off to battle. Both the bard and the knight looked over at the elf, showing him their looks of great concern.

Zevran merely shrugged his shoulders, saying, "There is nothing to worry about, my friends. Everything is going exactly as I planned."

"That doesn't make me feel any better." Leliana replied.

The trio accompanied the important general and his army as they marched down the road, around the turn, and out of sight. In just a few moments, what was once a bustling camp filled with more than twelve thousand men, was now barren, except for a few lonesome souls left behind to tend to the camp.

"I'll be damned." the arl said, flabbergasted, "The elf actually did it."

Eamon was perched atop a ridge that rose just to the southwest of the city. He and his men arrived at their spot the night before under the cover of darkness. They were all crouched in the high grass that covered the meadow which stretched out to the forest's edge.

The arl turned back to face his men and began to bark out orders, "Everyone! On your feet!" he shouted, "Let's move! Quickly now!"

All the men jumped up, and the steeds were allowed to rise from the ground. There was a mad scramble as men raced everywhere in order to get into position. Once they were in formation, the arl gave the order to move out.

They hurried up and over the ridge with the mounted soldiers leading the way. The foot soldiers quickly marched in unison to the rear. The men remaining in the order's camp looked on in bewilderment. If some of them did actually realize what was happening, they made no sign of it. Most likely because they knew the pitiful handful of soldiers remaining in the camp would do nothing against so many men.

The men guarding the city gates also saw the army that approached. One by one, the sentries recognized the arl at the front of the column. Shouts started to ring out all along the city wall. "It's Arl Eamon and his army!" they shouted, "We're Saved!"

The mighty gate creaked loudly as it slowly opened to allow the arl and his men passage into the city. The men in the towers on top turned the wheels as hard as the could, trying desperately to hurry the process along. Eamon sat patiently on his horse as he watched the doors spread wider apart. At last, a loud clanging thud indicated the gate was fully open. Eamon gestured to the soldiers behind him and they began to march into the city. The Order's members gathered at the edge of their camp to observe what was happening, some of them clearly upset by the sudden appearance of the arl and his men. They stood watching in disbelief as the last of the arls knights passed into the city and the mighty gate swung closed behind them.

"Where is Teyrn Fergus?" Eamon shouted to the first guard he laid eyes on.

The man's face turned into a strong frown upon hearing the name, "He's...he's been killed, my lord." he replied. "Bann Teagan has taken command. You can find him at the royal palace."

"The teyrn was killed? How did this happen?"

"There was a battle. The teyrn saved the city..." the man said, drifting off to a place he didn't want to remember. "I think it's best if I let the bann brief you further, my lord."

"I agree." the arl said, giving a knowing nod.

"Will there be anything else, my lord?"

"No, that will be all. I can find my own way to the palace."

The arl led his men through the city's streets, winding their way past the outskirts of the alienage and just to the south of the Market Distict, where the royal palace lay. Upon seeing Eamon, the guards posted throughout the city had reactions of shock and disbelief, which were quickly replaced with a look of hope and relief; things that no one in Denerim had had for quite some time. With the arl's arrival and the reinforcements that he brought, they would surely be able to stand against anything the Order threw at them, the soldiers believed.

Bann Teagan greeted his brother personally when he arrived at the palace. A runner had already made it to the palace to inform the bann that Eamon was on his way and Teagan was standing outside the main door when the arl and his men filed into the palace gates. The arl gave Teagan's hand a hearty shake, which were accompanied by a few pats on the shoulder.

"It's good to see you, Teagan. It's good to know the Maker still watches over you."

"And you as well, brother. Although I wish our reunion was under better circumstances. That was some ruse of yours, leading their entire army off like that. How did you ever manage to do that?" the bann replied as the two men walked through the open doors and into the palace.

"That is something I cannot take credit for. It was a scheme concocted by one of The Warden's companions. The elf. I only pray that he and the other two can make it back safely as well."

"The Warden does seem to keep rather unusual company."

"Indeed he does, but each of them is courageous in their own right. I was told Teyrn Fergus has been killed. Is that so?"

"Not entirely. He does live, but just barely." Teagan answered while the two men walked through the corridors towards the study, "He was gravely wounded in battle. If it wasn't for his actions, none of us would be here. We owe him our lives."

"He was wounded? What is his condition now?"

"Not good, I'm afraid." the bann sighed, "The arrow that hit him went deep and caused a great deal of damage. While he is alive, it's only a matter of time before he loses his struggle and the Maker claims him."

"How long?"

"Hours, maybe. A day or two at most."

"Why did that man tell me the teyrn was already dead?" Eamon asked.

"We've been trying to lure enemy agents out into the open. By telling everyone the teyrn was dead, we gave them information we knew they'd want and would have to get to the army outside. That way, we were able to track some of these agents to their source. Also, it serves as a rallying cry for the people. In case you haven't noticed, Denerim is a city without hope. If the people think the teyrn's already dead, they'll be more determined than ever to fight against the Order; out of anger if for no other reason. These people are so depressed and miserable, that's all I have left to work with."

"I see." the arl said. "It is unfortunate that things have some to this."

"You mentioned the elf, where is The Warden? Why isn't he with you?"

"He and Alistair chose to stay in Highever. He believes he can stop the trouble at its source. But if he should happen to fail, we need to prepare Denerim to face a nightmare worse than any it has ever seen before."


	30. Chapter 30

**Part XXX**

The attacks had been going on for more than a day. Darkspawn were appearing all over the castle, more and more of them as the hours dragged on. While Denolian did have a sizable detachment of troops numbering some five thousand men, they were slowly being whittled down by the unceasing waves of darkspawn invaders. The priest's frustration was mounting and he was nearing his wit's end.

"Tell the Warden I want to see him!" the aggravated men called out to one of his guards.

"Yes ser!" the man snapped back and rushed off.

Denolian impatiently tapped his foot and twiddled his fingers behind his back while he waited for the Black Warden to arrive. The sound of his tapping echoed off the hard wooden and stone walls, and mixed with the crackling of the flame in the fireplace. The sounds began to blend together into a form of odd music. The strange chorus clamored on for several minutes before finally being interrupted by the Black Warden being shown into the study.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked in his usual gruff voice.

"It's about time you got here. The castle is being overrun by those filthy vermin. What do you intend to do about it?" Denolian demanded.

"_Me_?" the dark man asked in return, "What do you want me to do about it?"

"You have all the abilities of a Grey Warden, do you not? Fighting darkspawn is what they do."

"It's what _they_ do. It's not what I do. I'm bound to no man's code."

"If you don't do something, they'll ruin everything. Do you really want _him_ to win?"

The Black Warden grumbled a bit at the mere thought before asking, "Have you tried looking for what's attracting the darkspawn?"

"What's attracting them?" the priest asked, confused.

"You said it yourself, there aren't any darkspawn in Highever. Yet, here they are. So, something has to be attracting them. If you find that, you'll solve all your troubles."

"Have the men search this castle from top to bottom! I want whatever is drawing the darkspawn to us found immediately."

"As you command." the Black Warden said, then turned and left the room to issue the orders.

Soldiers filed through the castle corridors on every level, searching each room completely. Everything from the kitchen larder, to the main hall, to the master suite, wasn't spared the intense scrutiny of the men as they tossed furniture aside, flipped mattresses over, and tore cabinets from the walls in an effort to locate what ever was calling to the darkspawn. And while the men insisted they had no clue what they were looking for, the Black Warden would only reply that they would recognize it when they saw it.

When their search did reach the cellars, it wasn't long before Morrigan's workspace was discovered and thoroughly examined. Her tables were overturned and the small cot was ripped apart. With their lit torches, they almost never made out the faint blue glow that the magical shield protecting the orbs cast. But by chance, one of them did happen to notice it, and pointed it out to his comrades, who stopped what they were doing and turned their full attention on the odd glow. One of the men reached out to touch it, and his hand was instantly knocked away and burned badly.

The guards quickly sent for their lord, informing him only that they had found "something", although they didn't know what it was. Denolian arrived shortly afterward, gliding gracefully through the room, as he always seemed to do. He was followed soon after by the appearance of the Black Warden, who took his place next to the priest near the source of the glow. It only took a short glance for the priest to see what was in front of him.

With a knowing nod, he turned and said, "It's a magical barrier. And a strong one at that."

"Who do you think placed it here?" the dark man asked.

"This is the witch's doing. She's hiding something behind it. But it's nothing I cannot deal with."

Denolian raised his hand and stretched out his arm towards the glowing shield. The barrier began to crackle and pop when he forcefully spread his fingers wide. The priest jerked his hand backward and the shield fizzled, popped, and then faded, revealing an iron chest hiding in a niche that had been carved into the stone.

"Open it." he commanded to the men surrounding him, some of whom still gawked in amazement of what they just witnessed. Two men hurried over and hoisted the chest from it's resting place and lowered to the floor at Denolian's feet. Another man jammed the sharp tip of his pike into the lock and pulled downward, prying the lock apart and forcing it open. He then unhooked the latch and tipped the lid back, exposing three clear and perfectly round orbs; each being a different size.

"Well, well. What have we here?" Denolian pondered while his slender hand rubbed his chin. "Hand one of them to me. The smallest one."

"Yes, my lord!" the man responded, and he reached his arm into the chest to lift the orb out. But as soon as his bare skin made contact with the sphere, the poor man instantly dropped dead.

"That might be a problem." The Black Warden noted, with a smirk.

"You there, hand me your gauntlet." the priest ordered to one of his men.

The man dutifully obliged Denolian, and the priest slid the metal glove over his thin hand. He lowered his arm down into the chest, grasped the orb ever so gingerly and slowly raised it out of it's spot. He held the clear ball before his face, peering into it with a careful eye.

The Black Warden leaned in closer to the object in the priest's hand. He squinted, trying to find the orb's center with his eyes, saying, "They are strong with the energy of the Fade. I can feel it radiating out. Do you have any idea what they are?"

"These, my dear Warden, I believe are the Orbs of Arastani and the source of our trouble."

"The what?"

"_Orbs of Arastani_" the priest replied with a sigh and a shake of his head, "I'm surprised you've never heard of them, since, in a way, they are responsible for your existence."

"Explain yourself. How can those three clear balls be where I came from?" the Black Warden asked, casting a quizzical look at the priest.

"They were created by the Dwarves of Orzammar to be used by the archons of the Tevinter Impirium in their mad quest for power. The archons intended to use the orbs to subdue the Maker, himself. But as you know, they failed. The orbs were consumed and altered by the taint; turning a deep blood red in color. The orb then turned all the Impirium acrchons into the twisted forms you know as darkspawn. Each time one of the old gods is freed from its prison, it is the orbs that are used to transform it into an archdemon. And, as you can plainly see, every darkspawn within a hundred miles are attracted to them."

"Alright. I get it. Without the orbs, there would be no darkspawn, and thus, no Grey Wardens. And without them, I wouldn't be here. But didn't you say they're supposed to be blood red? Did the color fade over time?"

"Don't be stupid. Of course not." the priest quipped, "They've obviously been cleansed. Which means the old hag, Flemeth, was much closer to success than I realized."

"So, what does all of this mean?"

"It means we'll have to move up the ceremony to tonight."

"Tonight? There's no way my men reached all the temples yet. Why do you insist on doing it tonight?"

"Because the orbs will continue to call more and more darkspawn until they outnumber us. We need to act quickly before they have a chance to interfere. We'll simply have to make due with those who've already been alerted." Denolian answered in his usual calm manner.

"Can't you just shut the damned things up?"

"No. Whoever awakened the orbs was much more familiar in their uses than I. I suspect it was the witch, who was probably familiarized with the orbs by her mother. I lack the ability required to manipulate them, and as you saw, they're deadly enough to handle as it is."

"This round goes to The Warden, it seems."

"It's nothing more than a minor set back, I assure you. After tonight, nothing will be able to stand in my way."

* * *

The trip to Redcliffe went a great deal quicker and smoother than The Warden expected it to. Considering the witch's disposition early that morning, before sunrise, when he approached her with a saddle in his arms, it was a miracle they were able to make the trip at all. The instant she saw him, her face turned into a bitter scowl. Her eyes formed daggers at him and the object he carried.

"Do not think for an instant that you shall fasten that..._thing..._to me." Morrigan fumed.

"If you can think of a better way for me to hang on and not drop our son at the same time, I'm listening."

The witch narrowed her eyes at her warden and huffed disapprovingly. "Very well," she grumbled, "but know that I am not merely some steed and refuse to be treated as such."

"Don't you think I already knew that you wouldn't like wearing a saddle? But what the hell am I supposed to do? You can't carry him and fly at the same time. And even if you did, don't you think the good people of Redcliffe would be just a tad riled about seeing a high dragon swooping down with a child in its clutches? If they see Seth and me riding you, they're less likely to stampede. And chances are, once they see me, they'll realize who you are."

"You are right, of course." the witch said with a sigh, "As I said, I shall wear the damned thing. But I do not have to like it."

Even after the witch had changed forms and he strapped the saddle around the base of her long neck, just at the shoulders, she continued to fuss and complain about the demeaning object fixed to her. And for a reason nobody quite understood, The Warden was able to understand every one of the witch's gripes. The only explanation either of them could come up with was that his connection to her somehow facilitated his being able to understand her while she was in dragon-from; dragons being the special creatures they are. It seemed to be as good a reason as any.

The Warden gripped his son tightly in his arms and hoisted himself onto the witch, plopping his rear down in the leather saddle she hated so fiercely. There were no reigns, as there was only so much the witch was willing to permit. So, The Warden grasped the saddle horn and held onto it while Morrigan pushed the three of them off the ground and into the air.

Instantly The Warden was made aware of something he'd never considered; he'd never flown before. Sure, he'd ridden the dragon that attacked the castle, but that was a battle. He was far too focused on fighting the beast to pay attention to being up in the air. Now, however, he was able to take it all in, and within seconds his heart started racing in his chest and his face became pale and sweaty. His cheeks began to turn a nice shade of green while the contents of his stomach fought to break free. It required every ounce of strength and concentration he had to both hold his son securely and keep from puking his guts out.

With a backward glance to check on her passengers, Morrigan was able to see her warden's distress. The witch shook her scaly head and rolled her large eyes, her glance saying to him, _my big strong man_. She pointed her long body downward and the trio came drifting back towards the earth, landing gently in a small field.

The Warden gingerly lowered himself and Seth from the witch's back, while his wobbly knees tried their best to keep the ground squarely beneath them. In a bright flash, Morrigan resumed her human form, approaching her warden with a most displeased look on her face.

"Set him down and go do what you must." she said in an annoyed and impatient tone.

As soon as the child's weight been lowered from his hands, he went staggering away to look for a suitable bush or tree to hide behind. Unfortunately for The Warden, none were to be found. His gut refused to wait any longer, and with a strong heave, it forced it's contents up and out. The Warden doubled over as the violent spasms overtook him.

Seth turned his head and beamed his large eyes at his mother, "Da sick?" he asked.

"So it would seem." the witch replied to her son, "Apparently, 'twas a new experience your father was not prepared for."

The toddler began to giggle. "Da silly, Mom'er!" he exclaimed as he clapped his chubby little hands.

"Indeed."

The Warden walked back to the pair, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His skin was still rather pale, although he had stopped sweating quite so much. Morrigan stood with her arms folded and her foot impatiently tapping the ground.

"We've barely even come a mile. If you are unable to make this journey, say so now. Otherwise you will simply have to show more restraint. I do not plan to have to stop so that you may vomit every few minutes." she hissed at him.

"I don't know what happened. I just felt so sick all of the sudden. I feel better now..." he paused as his voice trailed off.

"What?"

"Where did the saddle go?"

"Impossible man." the witch huffed, "Now is not the time for this foolishness. Are you able to make the journey or not?"

"I think so..." he groaned.

Morrigan reached into a pouch on her waist and pulled out a small vial that was sealed with a cork. Giving it to him, she said, "Here. Drink this. It will help with the nausea."

"Thanks." he replied as he unstopped the vial and quickly downed the contents.

"_Yuck_!" he exclaimed with a sour face, "That stuff is awful. What was it?"

"Do you _truly_ want to know?"

"Probably not."

"In that case, let us be on our way. We've no time to dawdle."

Once again, Morrigan took the form of a high dragon. The change took much less time than it did before, as she was growing more accustomed to her newest form. She nearly always had a special fondness for any new forms she learned, at least for a time. But she especially liked this one. It was so unlike any of the others. As a sparrow she could fly through the air already, but never before with the power and grace that only a dragon's wings can provide. And even the strength of a ferocious brown bear pales in comparison to the sheer might of a dragon. Oh, yes. Morrigan liked her newest form very much.

Whatever was in the medicine Morrigan had given The Warden seemed to be doing its job and there were no further incidents on the rest of the way to Redcliffe. But it was still long hours spent high in the sky. The witch flew on a mostly straight path, although what she really wanted was to swoop and dive through the air. She wanted to soar, not just simply fly. But the precious cargo she carried prevented her from doing any of those things.

Seth's eyes beamed brightly while his mother swooped up and over the tall clouds. The child showed no fear from being at such a high altitude at all. Instead, he was completely at ease and comfortable. He was used to seeing his mother's abilities routinely and never even considered that anything might be not-so-normal. She would even use her powers as a game with her son, although in those instances she never took the form of a giant spider. It was the only form Seth had never seen his mother take, for fear of frightening the poor child. And if Leo was present, which he almost always was, she wouldn't assume her wolf-form either. She had made the mistake of taking that shape in the mabari's presence before and found that, while Leo liked Morrigan as a human, he _really_ liked her as a wolf. Even though he was highly trained and obedient, resisting a bitch of Morrigan's caliber proved to be impossible.

Though it had taken hours, they saw that they had at last arrived at their destination, when below them a hole in the clouds revealed the village beneath them. From his high vantage point, The Warden thought the village looked even more charming than it did at ground level. It was easy for him to see Morrigan's love of flying. From up in the sky one gained a perspective that few shared and things seemed to become smaller in a way.

From below, several villagers had already spotted the dragon soaring high overhead. A panic was beginning to sweep through Redcliffe as guards and knights poured from posts all over the village in order to intercept the creature. One of the guards rang the alarm bell feverishly as the others took up positions to protect the people fleeing into the chantry. Morrigan made sure that she circled low enough in the sky for the people to clearly see The Warden and Seth perched in the saddle. And, as suspected, once the villagers saw their hero, cries of fear and panic turned into shouts of praise.

The soldiers scattered in different directions to avoid being crushed as Morrigan came down and landed just in front of the chantry. She lowered her lengthy neck and head to the ground so that The Warden was able to hop down from the saddle, with Seth in his arms. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he looked up at the people who had started to fill the area and beamed a broad smile at them and waved. Whatever reservations they had dissolved and they replied back to their hero in the form of a raucous ovation.

Much to the relief of all in attendance, the witch returned to her human form with a bright flash. While many in the crowd had already guessed the dragon's true identity, the sight of such an imposing creature still left them more than a tad bit uneasy. They watched the witch with careful eyes as she strolled next to her warden.

"That was quite an entrance, Warden." Murdock said as he greeted The Warden with a handshake. "You sure scared the hell out of a lot of people."

"I apologize for that." The Warden replied, "There wasn't any time to warn you about it beforehand. We're in a bit of a hurry."

"Well, you're damn lucky you've got the most recognizable face in Ferelden, otherwise you'd have been dodging arrows from my men. They were starting to get a bit anxious."

"Again, I apologize. But I'm afraid I don't have time to talk, there's someone I really must see."

"Of course, Warden." the gruff man said with a nod, "With all this Order of Bohlen business and what not, I'm sure you have plenty to do. I'll not be keeping you any longer."

The trio found their way from the chantry on top of one of the many hills, down to the lake front and Aniel's home. The Warden raised his fist and pounded loudly on the wooden door several times, but there was no answer at first. Again he knocked on the door and again there was nothing. Just when he was about to try one last time, a woman's voice called out from behind the thick wooden door between them.

"Who is it? Don't you know there's a high dragon about!" the voice said.

"Aniel, open up. It's The Warden and Morrigan is with me. We've brought someone to meet you."

The door cracked open slightly in order for the person behind it to peer out and confirm what was said. It didn't take long and soon the door was opened wide. Aniel stood there with a large butcher knife in her hand, which was still shaking considerably.

"Hurry and get inside before the dragon sees you." the old woman urged as she ushered the trio inside her home.

"All is well. There is no dragon" Morrigan assured the frazzled woman.

"Didn't you see it? I certainly did. It was a monstrous thing."

"Twas no dragon you saw. 'Twas only I."

"It was you You?" Aniel asked, slightly confused.

"'Tis correct."

Morrigan's words caused Aniel to settle enough for the old woman to remember that her niece was a shape shifter, and that such things truly were possible. "That's right. You can change forms, can't you?" she asked rhetorically, "My, but did you give me a good scare."

"I am sorry for that. 'Twas an unavoidable outcome." the witch offered, "But there is little time and we require your assistance."

"You're family. Of course I'll help in any way I can. What do you need?"

Morrigan and The Warden both looked down at the small toddler that had gone unnoticed by Aniel so far. The old woman's eyes lit up the instant she saw the child and a wide smile spread across her face. She placed her hands on her knees and bent over, lowering herself so that she could see the child better.

"Well, hello there. You must be Seth. I've heard so much about you." Aniel said.

Seth immediately pulled back and pressed himself tightly to his mother, wrapping his small arms around her legs and squeezing hard. His parents seemed to know who this person was, but he didn't have a clue. She was a stranger, and strangers were to be avoided at all costs.

"'Tis alright, my darling. There is no need to be afraid" Morrigan soothed, "This is Aniel. She is your aunt."

"Aunt?" the toddler asked, confused.

"Yes. She is family."

"Famuh-wee?" the boy said in his toddler-speak, "Like Unca Fuhgiss?"

"That's right. Just like Uncle Fergus." The Warden confirmed to his young son.

That seemed to ease the boy a bit and he released his death-grip on his mother's legs. He stood rigid and stiff, letting Aniel look him over, although, he still cast a watchful eye at the old woman.

"What a splendid boy!" Aniel gushed, "You sure take after your mother's looks."

"Aniel," The Warden interrupted, "Morrigan and I have something that we need to do. Something that isn't exactly safe. We were hoping you could look after Seth for us for a few days."

"Why, of course I will." Aniel readily agreed, "Fighting demons or gods or whatever it is that you two do, is certainly no place for a small child."

"Thanks, Aniel. We appreciate it."

"It's no trouble. That's what family is for." Aniel replied with a warm smile.

"We shall be back for him as soon as we are able." the witch added.

"Leaving already? But you just got here."

"Unfortunately, we don't have time for a longer visit. There is an urgent matter that we have to address."

"You must at least let me feed you. You came all this way, you need to have something to eat."

"In truth..." the witch muttered as she looked her warden in the eye, "I am rather famished. It would be nice not to have to make the return trip on an empty stomach."

"Well..." The Warden said as he debated with himself, "It did take us less time than I figured it would to get here, so I think we have a little time to spare for a meal."

"Wonderful!" Aniel said as she clasped her hands together, "I'll go make you each a plate. Come on in and make yourselves comfortable."

And so, The Warden and his witch stayed just long enough to allow the old woman to fill their bellies with food. After which, Morrigan and The Warden made sure Seth was settled before they departed back to Highever. The parents hated to leave their child behind, especially considering what happened to him the last time, but they both knew it was for his own safety. It helped that Seth had quickly adapted to Aniel's home and seemed to be quite comfortable when they left. Still, on the long flight back, Morrigan greatly wished to herself that she could be a better mother to her son; a mother who wasn't always having to leave her child behind.

The sun hung low in the sky as evening crept ever closer to night, when the witch and The Warden finally returned to the camp. Before Morrigan reverted back to her human form, she had The Warden remove the saddle from her, to prevent it from vanishing again if nothing else. She was grateful to be free of the loathsome thing after it had been strapped to the base of her neck all day. He set the saddle down and took the witch in his arms and brought her close to him.

"It looks like we have the place all to ourselves." he said to her while he allowed himself to be lost in her golden eyes.

"So it seems." she agreed. "'Tis most odd."

Just then, there was a loud rustling in the bushes. Three figures appeared into the clearing from the north. Alistair, Dyana, and Silas rushed into the camp and hurriedly began to gather their things. The three were so preoccupied that none of them saw The Warden and his witch standing just a few feet away.

"What's going on?" The Warden asked.

" Dwemer!" Alistair shouted when he noticed his friend, "Thank the Maker you're back!"

"Why? What's happening?"

"There's been activity at the Order's temple. They've been preparing for something. I think it's starting."

The Grey Warden looked down at the witch he held in his arms and said, "Ready or not, here we go."


	31. Chapter 31

**Part XXXI**

From the edge of the forest, The Warden spied the stone temple that sat between the rubble and the ruin of what was once Highever. The chains that once held the doors locked tight, were now removed and cast to the side. He watched intently as Altavar, the high priest of the temple, was joined by the other two priests in quickly making preparations for something big. But The Warden and the others were too far away to make out anything clearly. What was needed was a closer look. So, the group slinked out of the woods and sneaked across the remnants of the charred buildings in order to get a closer vantage point by which The Warden could peer through the thin slits that served as windows.

From what he was able to make out, it looked like the priests were preparing for an important ceremony. Many red and white candles were lit, filling the inside of the building with a haunting glow. Just beneath the altar, a long table had been placed and covered with a white silken cloth. On top were fifty or so brass goblets and several glass pitchers of what appeared to be wine, which was a deep burgundy in color.

The Warden and the others quickly ducked behind a large piece of rubble when they saw a group of the Order's soldiers approaching the temple from the castle. The lead man loudly banged on the front door of the temple over and over until one of the priests finally answered. The man said something to the priest in a gruff and grizzled voice and the priest acknowledged him with a nod. The Warden tried hard to see into the tiny crack the priest had opened, but was unable to see anything clearly at all. And with a loud _slam_, the door slammed shut, destroying any hope of being revealed anything further. Whether the soldier received the answer he wanted or not, was unknown while The Warden continued to watch from behind his cover. All five members of the group stayed hidden behind the remains of a stone wall until the company of soldiers departed and returned to the castle.

"_Well, well, well,_" came a voice from behind, "what have we here?"

All the members of the party turned to see a group of well armed soldiers numbering some twenty men standing about thirty feet behind them. They were covered in dark leather armor with shiny metal helms and each carried a razor sharp sword at his side. They had been sent out to investigate rumors of a high dragon being seen in the area and they were on their way back to the castle to report that hey had found nothing. Nothing, that is, until now. The soft leather boots and armor they wore combined with the party's focus on the temple to conceal the soldiers' approach and they were able to take The Warden's group by surprise.

"Why, if it isn't the Grey Warden himself." the man at the front of the column said; the tunic he wore over his chest indicating he was the sergeant. He gestured to the others who began to spread out and encircle the party.

"What are we gonna do with 'em sergeant?" another of the soldiers asked.

"We're going to invite him and the missus for tea." the sergeant replied in an annoyed tone, "What do you think we're going to do with them? We're going to take all of them to the Black Warden and let him deal with them."

The Warden said no words to those in his company, conveying to the others his plans through a slight grin and a knowing nod, instead. Morrigan and Alistair, thanks to dozens of similar such encounters, knew exactly what was about to happen. And while Silas and Dyana weren't quite positive of what the look meant, they also had a pretty good clue of what The Warden was about to do.

In one swift motion, The Warden reached to his back, pulled his blades from their sheaths, and spun around, cutting the sergeant down. His blades sliced through the man in quick succession, separating the sergeant's upper torso from the rest of his body. A look of horrified confusion was etched into his face as he toppled over and fell in two.

"Sergeant!" One of the other soldiers yelled out. "You bastard! I'll kill you!" he screamed as he raised his sword and charged at The Warden, followed by the rest of the men.

The Warden and the other members of the party tore into the wave of charging steel that hurled down on them. The familiar sound of clanging metal and shouting men rang out as positions were taken up and an all-out battle ensued.

The Warden, Morrigan, and the others fell back into a semi-circle formation with the large wall of rubble behind them, blocking the rear, while Leo took his place alongside his master, chomping and clawing at anything that dared to get close enough. The Order's soldiers broke up into groups of four in an attempt to split the party and force them to attack individually. The tactic was proving to be effective, initially at least.

A blast of flame erupted from Morrigan's hands, setting fire to the ground around a clump of soldiers and holding them back. They shouted and shook their blades at the witch from behind the wall of flames. The witch stared them down with her weapon held in front of her, making sure they stayed back behind the fire, but one of them found the courage to leap through the burning barrier and attack Morrigan.

The soldier was well-trained with his sword, and while the witch was becoming fairly skilled with a blade herself, she was still very much in the learning process. He parried every thrust and countered every stab she tried. He would turn the tables on her and attack from unexpected angles in an attempt to catch her off guard. The strategy very nearly worked as Morrigan barely managed to spin out of the way in time of a slice meant for her throat. Still the soldier's blade caught her arm, cutting it to the bone.

"Agghhh!" Morrigan cried out and grabbed her bleeding arm.

"_Morrigan_!" The Warden shouted upon hearing his witch's scream. But he was on the other side of the fight and there was at least ten men between them. Silas was much closer to the witch and after an urging look from his mentor, he bolted off to her aid. However, he still had several foes of his own to handle before he would reach her. He worked as quickly as he could, knocking his enemy's sword away before piercing the man's chest with his own and pushing him to the side, then twisting his blade around in his hand and thrusting it straight behind him into another soldier that attacked from the rear. Even at his frantic pace, it would still take long minutes for him to reach Morrigan.

While the witch was squatted on one knee and tried to catch her breath, the man she fought twirled his sword around in a flashy and acrobatic manner, showing off his prowess. He finished with a suitably imposing attack pose aimed at the witch. He reached out his empty hand and made a gesture that beckoned Morrigan to "bring it".

Morrigan coiled up every ounce of energy she had and lunged at the man. Fiercely, she fought the man back, pressing her attack with a savage determination. The man was caught off guard and could only do his best to block each deadly swing that sliced the air ever closer to its target. One of his defensive swings, however, landed at an awkward angle and staggered the witch, causing her to stumble and fall to her knees.

"You fought well, witch." the man said, puffing hard, "but you're still no match for a man." and he raised his blade high over his head to deliver the killing blow.

Morrigan gripped her sword tightly, lifted it up, and thrust it straight at the man's belly. Her blade struck home and sank deep into the man' tender flesh. His face wore the same look of terrified surprise that his sergeant had worn only moments before. He dropped his blade and it clattered against the hard dirt as he fell to his knees while the witch rolled away and scrambled to stand up.

"Stupid woman..." he muttered with his dying breath.

Morrigan cast a furious stare at the man. She charged her spell and released it at him. A blue and white bolt arced through the air, buzzing and hissing as it went, and struck the soldier squarely in the chest. The blast blew him backward, sending his now lifeless body flying through the air and passed the next wave of men who were coming to attack.

The three men left to face the witch circled around her and cut off any route of escape. They shook their weapons at her and called out vile curses, saying that she was a maleficar whore as they paced around her. Morrigan held her blade in a defensive posture in front of her, twisting around inside their circle in an effort to keep all three in view.

"Maleficar trash!" one man shouted as he spit on the ground near Morrigan's feet.

"We know exactly what to do with your kind." another said.

The witch paid little attention to the catcalls and insults. They were the same sort of things she had grown accustomed to hearing her whole life. Even though she could plainly see the bitter hatred that burned in their eyes, their words meant nothing to her. She had heard them all before. The fools could say whatever they wished. Her hide was far to calloused for such things to affect her at all.

"After we're done with you, we'll deal with that abomination of yours." the first man said with a cackle.

"Yeah," another agreed, "we'll tie the little bastard up in a sack full of stones and drop him in the sea."

The witch's face formed into a fierce scowl. "_Die_!" Morrigan shouted from the pit of her stomach. Bolts of magical energy cracked and popped around her open hand. With a loud yell, the witch flung her power at the first man. The bolt struck him like a horse's kick to the gut and the blast flung him backwards through the air. He landed on his back against the hard ground. Wisps of smoke floated up from the man's motionless form and his skin was speckled with charred spots. The man's comrades screamed in anger, and with their blades raised high in the air, they charged the witch.

She did her best to fend both of them off at the same time. She blocked and parried each thrust and stab, quickly dancing left and right to evade each slice. The two forced her to always be on the defensive, steadily pushing her back. Sweat poured from her brow as she desperately fought the men and her arms were starting to get very heavy in their sockets. Swinging the large enchanted blade was starting to take its toll.

Then, one of the men misstepped and his foot slipped a bit, causing him to stagger. The witch saw her one opportunity and took it. She swung her sword around with all the strength she had left, bringing it down on the man who stumbled. In a knee-jerk reaction, he knocked her blade away, but his effort left him unbalanced and exposed. Morrigan stretched out her open hand toward the man and an icy-cold blast burst forth, freezing the man solid.

"Oommpf!" Morrigan gasped as a sudden and jarring thud from the side knocked her to the ground. Her sword was knocked loose from her hand and fell a few yards away; out of reach. Her deadly attack of ice on the exposed man had left her vulnerable as well, and the second attacker rammed into her blindside with full force. The witch knelt there, panting heavily and holding her aching side, while the assailant stood over her and prepared to finish the job. The man swung his blade back behind him and prepared to bring it down with all his might. And just as he was about to release his blade, a blur flashed from out of the side of Morrigan's view and knocked the man away.

After the initial surprise of still being alive passed, Morrigan's focus came into view. She saw her attacker lying flat on his back flailing like a toppled turtle, and over him someone knelt with his sword pressed against the man's belly. It was the young warden, Silas. She watched as he drove his sword deep into the man's stomach and gave it a good twist before pulling it back out again.

He sprang up and quickly turned around to face the witch. He rushed over to her and held his hand out to her to help her stand, asking, "Are you alright?"

She slapped his hand away and said, "I am perfectly capable of standing on my own. Your assistance is neither needed nor desired."

"I was just trying to help. That's all." the boy replied as the withdrew his hand.

"If your desire is truly to help, you should begin by assisting the others in dispatching our foes." the witch hissed while she stood with a slight grunt.

Silas looked up and his young face went flat and pale. He saw The Warden, Alistair, and Dyana had nearly finished dealing with the soldiers, but he also saw something else. Something that troubled him greatly.

"I think that might be a problem." he said, pointing off in the direction of the castle.

"What?" Morrigan asked as she turned her head to see what the the young warden was so concerned about.

"_Damn_!_" _the witch mumbled when she saw a stream of men pouring out of the castle and heading in their direction. At least another hundred soldiers. lead by the Black Warden and with a good many mounted on horseback, were coming to join the fray. Their fight with the soldiers out in the open was bound to get noticed, and now knights raced their steeds at them through the rolling meadow and towards the burned out husks, while a column of men in a rapid march brought up the rear.

Just as The Warden was tossing the last man to the side, the mounted knights bore down on them. Dust was kicked into swirling clouds while the horses trampled around as the men who rode them beat The Warden and his friends back into a tighter and smaller group. The party stood with their backs against each other while their blades lashed out at the knights riding around them.

Even though they were heavily outnumbered, and their foes were mounted, The Warden and his companions were still able to steadily whittle down the number of enemies that faced them. But the effort was growing extremely exhausting as all the members of the group were thoroughly winded and gasping for air and Morrigan's magic had been totally spent. When the footmen finally reached the battle, it was just too much for them. The group fought as bravely as they could, but more and more men entered the fight, until they were like a giant swarm circling the battered party. And in only a matter of minutes, The Warden and those in his company had been completely subdued.

Their wrists were bound and they were lined up and forced to their knees as the Black Warden sat on his mount with a smug and satisfied grin. All of them responded by casting hateful glares back at him, but no stare was more imposing than Morrigan's. And while the Black Warden totally enjoyed their reaction to him, the blackness and depth of hate in the witch's eyes unnerved the dark figure just a bit. He was certain of just what Morrigan would do to him if she ever got the chance. But now, The Warden, Morrigan, and the others had been captured and finally stopped. Now there was nothing to stand in the way of Denolian's plans, so the witch would never get the chance to kill the Black Warden that she so desired. That made Morrigan's terrible look the most satisfying of all. Because, ultimately, it was one of futility and failure.

The group was chained, shackled, and then ushered back to Castle Cousland as prisoners of the Order of Bohlen. They would be forced to witness the coming spectacle through the stout bars of their iron cage. And after the ceremony was completed, The Warden and the witch would be forced to watch as Denolian's creations spread across a helpless Ferelden and devoured everything in their path.

* * *

Apparently, General Regorda was not a man who tolerated being deceived. After leading the army miles to the west chasing after a ghost army, Zeveran, Leliana, and Darren steered their horses from the trail and bolted into the woods. Regorda was too focused on his task to pay the three any mind. Their hasty departure went unseen for a few moments while the General had his lieutenants scout the surrounding area to look for the massive army Eamon was supposedly bringing. But each scout reported the same tale; there was no sign of any approaching army to be found anywhere. They'd been duped.

The general flew into a rage. Dishonesty was not the Maker's way and the three riders ' vile treachery would not go unpunished. He ordered the surrounding area searched for the trio of deceivers. But while Regorda was angry, he wasn't a fool. He understood the liars' ruse, and knew he needed to get back to the city as quickly as possible. He left a contingent of soldiers behind to keep looking for the three, while he rushed back to Denerim with the rest of his forces. If they were fast enough, they might still gain the Maker's favor and catch Eamon in the act of trying to enter the city.

Unfortunately for the general and his men, however, they arrived to find out that Eamon and his knights had already entered the city and bolstered its forces. The few men who were left in the camp while Regorda had the bulk of the army away, told the general of how they saw Eamon and his knights rise out of the tall grass from behind the far ridge and ride into Denerim; estimating the arl's army to be some twelve hundred men or so. Far fewer than the ten thousand men described to them by them elf. But even those numbers would go far in strengthening the city's defenses. Regorda knew, though, that the arl's arrival would give the royal army many more benefits than just mere numbers.

Now there were fresh men to relieve tired soldiers from their posts. And with more soldiers came shorter duty shifts, providing even more rest. There was also the supplies that Eamon's men were able to smuggle into the city with them. The fresh rations and dry blankets would do much to boost the moral of a city mired in hopelessness and despair. And most obviously, there were now extra arrows that could now be hurled at the general's men from behind the protection of the sturdy stone walls.

After everything Regorda had done to push Denerim to the brink of collapse, he was not about to let the city slip from his grasp. If Denerim were permitted this breath of life, those inside may find new hope and the will to keep on fighting; something Regorda absolutely refused to tolerate..

Whatever peace the city's inhabitants gleaned from the past few hours was to be short lived. The general planned to throw his entire army at the city with vicious brute force. He would destroy everything that they held dear and teach them that to defy the will of the Order is death.

* * *

Teyrn Fergus lingered on in his dire state. For days he'd been unmoving in his bed, gripped with a high fever. With each passing minute, the Reaper's chilling touch crept ever closer. Still, that he was able to last as long as he had was a miracle in itself. But there was no denying it, soon the teyrn would inevitably succumb to death's icy embrace and throw the house of Cousland into terrible turmoil.

Without Fergus, there was no one to hold the teyrnir of Highever together. Other than King Alistair, he was the highest ranking lord in the land, governing an area that covered nearly a third of all Ferelden, and almost the entire northern coast; from Amaranthine in the east, to the stately Frostback Mountains in the west. Many of the lords and nobles of the northern Bannorn pleaded their fealty to him and his presence would greatly ease the coming restructuring of those lands while the Bannorn dealt with the loss of its nobles at the hands of the Order. The king, if he survived, was sure to have his hands full in the coming months as lords squabbled over the disputed lands left behind by the fallen banns. Adding Highever to that list, however, would make Alistair's job ten times more difficult than it already was.

It was common knowledge, of course, that The Warden's young son, Seth, was the heir to the Cousland legacy. But, as with all things, it wouldn't be that easy. If Fergus were to die, there would certainly be challenges to Seth's legitimacy. The king would have to listen to every lord, bann, or arl who sought to challenge the boy's birthright. And because Seth was only a toddler, the arguments against him would have merit. The best thing for everyone would be if Fergus lived, but that possibility was looking more and more bleak with each day.

The most obvious thing for Alistair to do would be to appoint The Warden as Custodian of Highever until Seth became of age. But there were problems with that course of action as well. It could been seen as a way of granting the Grey Wardens more political power and influence in Ferelden and could even be twisted to imply that Alistair was nothing more than a puppet king made to do the bidding of his Grey Warden masters. In addition, there was the fact that Seth would probably begin the show magical talents well before we was old enough to hold the title of teyrn, thus complicating matters even further.

No matter which way the situation was examined, there were no quick answers or an easy way out. Of course, if The Warden and his companions failed to stop Denolian and the Order of Bohlen, all of this would be moot anyway. But even if The Warden was successful, because of all the damage and death caused by the Order, many dark days still lay ahead for the land and its people. It was starting to look as though, no matter who the victor in the conflict was, the country of Ferelden would end up on the losing end.

All of this weighed heavily on the mind of Arl Eamon, who had assumed command of the royal army upon his arrival in Denerim. It was now his job to protect the capital city and its citizens from the horde of men that threatened from just beyond the city's high walls. And though Fergus was a capable general and commander with many years of experience, there was a quality he lacked which Eamon excelled in: diplomacy.

Eamon was made aware of Denolian's intentions by Leliana and Zevran and was appalled by what he was told. The arl had heard of General Regorda and knew him to be an honorable man. He had a hard time believing that Regorda could be in league with such an unholy creature. Eamon was convinced that the general didn't realize what his master's true goal was or that he was under the mad priest's spell. The arl planned on using his skilled tongue to persuade the general to listen to reason and end this madness before anymore lives were needlessly lost. To that end, the arl arranged a meeting with the general under a flag of truce. He gathered his lieutenants and rode out of the city to meet with the commander of the Order's army. Eamon was convinced this was his best hope to achieve peace.


	32. Chapter 32

**Part XXXII**

The gates of the city cracked open only wide enough for a single horse and rider to exit the city. Six men, in all, rode out single-file from Denerim, the man in the middle grasping a long pole that held a large white banner which flapped gently in the soft breeze. At the back of the line, rode Arl Eamon. Just in case the Order had some treacherous notions about using the meeting as an excuse to force their way into Denerim, Eamon was the last to pass through the gate. That way, the arl could be easily retrieved if it turned out to be a trap.

Guards waited nervously with their weapons tightly gripped as they watched the arl and his knights ride out to meet the small cluster of men the Order had sent. They sat silently on their black steeds and covered with their dark armor, waiting in the middle of the road some one hundred yards beyond the city's high walls.

Eamon didn't like having to go so far out from the city to meet the Order's delegation, but at the same time, he knew the Order was unlikely to be able to breach the walls from such a distance, which, he felt, was the most important thing. But as he cast his glance over his shoulder to see the giant gate behind him swinging shut, he couldn't help feeling just a few flutters in the pit of his stomach.

"I am Arl Eamon Guerrin." he announced as his party approached the men in the road, "I've come to speak with General Octaes Regorda."

"_I_ am Regorda." said the man in the middle of the group. He was adorned in lavish black plate armor and had an air of command about him. "You are known to me, Arl Eamon. I've heard you to be an honest and honorable man. I call on you to surrender your forces peacefully, before anyone else has to die for your lost cause."

"You are known to me, as well, general. And I must say that I'm appalled you would align yourself with such vile monsters." the arl retorted, "I did not come here to discuss with you any terms or conditions of surrender. Instead, I am here to appeal to your wisdom and sense of duty and faith."

"Duty? Faith?" the general scoffed, "What do you know of such things? You and your kind long ago cast aside the Maker's teachings in favor of more _carnal_ aspirations."

"I'm not here to have a religious debate with you, either, general. I've come to inform you that your master is nothing more than a treacherous demon. And, his so-called, '_Order_' is merely an unholy mockery of our faith. He preys upon the very people who serve him. You know that the carnage he's brought to Ferelden is not the Maker's way. I implore you to look inside yourself and tell me that you honestly believe the Maker desires all this bloodshed."

"We are often called upon to do things we don't like or accept. It is up to us to trust in the Maker and understand that only He sees the overall plan. It is not for us to question. Denolian is a remarkable man, touched by the Maker, himself. I've witnessed his powers personally. He is truly sent from the divine."

"Denolian is nothing but an ancient charlatan. His lone goal is to steal t he soul of every last man, woman, and child in Ferelden."

"That's a strong claim, Arl Eamon." the general said as he cocked his head to the side, "Do you have any proof to back it up?"

"What if I were to tell you I know of a place where Denolian has tried this same course of action before and failed. A place decorated with the very same symbols and icons that you and your men bear now."

"I haven't heard of anyplace like that before. Where is it?"

"A temple in the Korcari Wilds. It's the very same temple where your master sent The Warden after the amulet."

"The Eye of Arvisarok will be the thing that brings the Maker back to our world. It will create a bridge between this world and heaven."

"That _Eye_ will steal the soul of every follower the Order has, and transform them into hideous, mindless demons."

"You speak of Denolian this way, yet you choose to align yourself with a maleficar. The Grey Warden's precious witch. Those two are the epitome of what this land has become."

"The Grey Warden sacrificed everything to save Ferelden. If you were here then, during the Blight, and you had seen it with your own eyes, then you would truly understand. He was the light in our darkest hour. There is an old saying: 'Andraste was Ferelden's gift to the Maker'. However, since the Blight, the people have added: 'The Warden's arrival was the Maker returning the favor'. The man is revered across all Ferelden and beyond."

"What about the witch? She's an unrepentant maleficar who practices blood magic. She's the daughter of Flemeth, one of the most evil creatures of all time. You cannot look at me with a straight face and tell me she was also a gift from the Maker."

"I can, and _will_, ser. " the arl quipped, "I don't begin to understand the Maker's methods or reasons, but she was certainly sent to us by Him. "

"How can you say that?"

"She accompanied The Warden from the start of his quest to rebuild Ferelden's armies. Her courageous actions during that time and since have earned her my respect. Not the least of which being, when she risked her own life to save my son from the clutches of a foul demon. Without her help, The Warden surely would have failed."

Arl Eamon sighed and shook his head, "Morrigan can certainly test one's patience, and her tongue can cleave a man in two. But she's not evil, in fact, her actions would suggest the contrary. But she was raised in the wilds, outside of the Chantry. Our world and our views are strange to her. I believe she was sent by the Maker not only to help, but as a test."

"What sort of test?" Regorda asked, as he cast a curious eye at the arl.

"A test to show that we can accept those who are different than us, and lead them to the Maker's grace by our actions and how we live our lives, and not by beating them over the head with hateful words and scornful looks."

"You are a good man, Arl Eamon. A man of peace. I, however, am a man of war. We have each chosen the path we feel the Maker has laid out for us. It is now time to reap the consequences of those choices. Honor compels me to inform you that my army will attack in four hours. Use that time to make your peace."

* * *

The Warden, Morrigan, Alistair, Silas, Dyana, and the mabari, Leo, were all lead across the open courtyard of Castle Cousland. They were all bound in thick, heavy chains that chimed against the ground with each step. The captives held their heads low while they slowly shuffled down the cellar stairs as they were escorted to the dungeon to a loud chorus of angry shouts coming from the Order's followers.

The prisoners were taken to the back end of the cellar, near the southeastern corner, where the few holding cages were. Denolian was there waiting to greet them, along with the desire demon who was in the guise of the beautiful maiden. The priest beamed a broad smile as the captives were ushered passed him.

"Well done, Warden. Well done, indeed." Denolian said to the Black Warden as he delightfully gazed at the prisoners.

"Don't thank me yet." he replied, "Not until we've loosened the witch's tongue so she'll tell us how to shut those damned orbs up."

"Don't bother. She'll never tell you. And besides, none of that will even matter in just a few hours."

Denolian turned to address those held in shackles before him, "I really should thank each of you. Without your help none of this would have been possible, especially _you_ captain."

"What are you babbling on about?" Alistair asked, his voice filled with spite, "Dyana was never on your island or at the temple in the wilds. What could she have done?"

"Oh, my king, she was the most important piece of all. If not for her aid, you would have never gone after the amulet in the first place."

"Dyana, what is he talking about?" Alistair asked the captain, his voice changing from one of anger to one of nervousness.

Dyana's face scrunched up and her brow tightened. "How could I have been so stupid?" she muttered, "You knew I would tell them everything. You used me."

"Try not to take it too personally, my dear." Denolian replied with his gleefully sinister smile. "I would invite you all to attend tonight's festivities, but I can see you are already otherwise detained. Trust me, though, its going to be something you'll never forget, for the few moments you'll have left to live anyway. Good day to you." the priest finished with a slight nod and then turned and left with the demon and his armed escort.

The group was placed into two separate cells, with The Warden, Alistair and Leo in one cell and Morrigan, Dyana, and Silas in the other. The cell which held the witch was covered with many runes, glyphs, and wards. Obviously their purpose was to inhibit Morrigan's magical ability, but in her battered and exhausted state, she had no magic left to use and it would be several hours at least before she was able to regenerate her energies.

If there were a source of lyrium close by, in powdered or potion form, she wouldn't need to wait to restore her strength. Unfortunately, though, there seemed to be no lyrium of any kind to be had. Although, even if there was, the glyphs and runes would probably prevent any successful spell casting, anyhow. So the party was forced to do nothing but sit, wait, and hope an opportunity for escape would present itself.

They were able to look out into the courtyard through the barred windows which were set high into the cell walls at eye level. Through which, they could see all the hectic activity that was taking place. Guards and other members of the Order scurried about the courtyard readying for the night's ceremony. At the north end, near the main castle entrance, an ornate wooden podium had been placed, next to which, long tables were set on either side and covered with white table cloths. Decorative candelabras were set up all around, each holding many thin white candles whose wicks had never known flame. Behind the podium, a smaller table was placed that had a small metal chest resting on top. Both the witch and her warden instantly recognized the chest as the one containing the Orbs of Arastani. While neither was especially surprised that the Order had finally found the orbs, both of them wondered what part they would play in the mad priest's scheme and shuddered at the horrifying possibilities.

Long shadows began to crawl across the castle as afternoon turned into evening. Nearly all the preparations for the ritual had been completed and there were only a few members of the Order left in the courtyard to attend to what remained. Most of the group sat silent and still on the benches in their cages. All, that is, except for Captain Dyana. While the others quietly contemplated their situation and any possible solutions, Dyana squirmed where she sat. She crossed her legs and turned to face one direction, then uncrossed them and switched to face another direction, until finally crossing her arms and bouncing and rocking in her spot.

"Will you please stop your damned fidgeting!" Morrigan fumed, "You are driving me mad!"

"I need to have a pee!" the captain replied in a loud whisper.

"Well, obviously, 'tis not going to happen for some time, if ever. I strongly suggest you learn to deal with it."

"I'm trying to, but we've been stuck in here for hours. I really have to go!"

"Then find someplace in the corner and be as discreet as possible."

"I can't. Not with all these people watching."

"Then continue to hold it and be miserable for all I care." the witch huffed. "But, whatever your choice, be silent about it."

"Yes, my lady." the captain replied as she tried her best to sit still and distract her mind from her over-full bladder.

"Oh, just _lovely_!" Morrigan grumbled while casting an evil look towards the captain. "Now _I_ have to go."

As the group sat and waited in their cages, two large men entered the dungeon accompanied by a third, smaller man. They stopped in front of The Warden's cell and the shorter man reached down to his belt to retrieve a keyring, which he fiddled with in his fingers until he came across the particular key he was looking for. With a twist of his wrist, the lock on the cell door popped open. They drew their wicked-looking blades and entered the cage.

Leo growled a low and menacing growl at the three men as they approached Alistair, pointing their sharpened tips directly at him. One of the large men grabbed the king and pulled him up from his spot, saying, "You're coming with us." as he did so.

"Where are you taking him?" The Warden demanded as he jumped up to face the men.

"The master's got plans for him. That's all you need to know." the large man said as he cast The Warden a scowl.

"You're not taking him anywhere! I'll kill you first!"

"Not smart, Warden. What with your lady in the next cell, all helpless and such. Something might happen to her and you wouldn't want that, now would you?"

"_Bastards_!" The Warden fumed through his teeth, "If you so much as touch one hair on her head I'll..."

"You'll what?" the man interrupted, half laughing, "Watch through the bars? Face it, there's _nothing_ you can do. So why don't you be a good lad and just have a seat before you do something you end up regretting."

The Warden's eyes blazed with hatred while he slowly lowered himself back down to the wooden bench. He folded his arms in front of him as the anger bubbled up inside.

"That's better." the man said.

He gripped Alistair tightly by the shoulder and pushed him out of the cell, all the while a sharp blade pointed against his side. The Warden and the others watched as the smaller man led Alistair and the two large men down the walkway, through the heavy steel and wooden door, and out of the dungeon, vanishing from view.

The loud deep chime of a large bell began to ring out through the castle, drawing the captives' attention. The group looked through their barred windows to see an old man, who was wearing a white robe, pounding a hammer against the brass bell that hung next to him. With each banging pulse, more were called to the start of the ceremony and the courtyard began to fill with people.

"'Tis starting." the witch confirmed.

"_Damn_!" The Warden muttered to himself, "We can't just sit here. We've got to do something."

"Like what?" Silas asked, "In case you didn't notice, we don't have any weapons and we're locked in these cages."

"Morrigan, have you regained enough of your power to do anything?"

"Perhaps." the witch replied, "'Tis pointless, however, since I may not cast any spells or wield any magic while the runes block my power."

The Warden paused and thought about their dilemma for a minute. The only way they could break free was if Morrigan was somehow able to use her magic, but as long as the runes covered every surface of her cell, her power would be inhibited. But what if the runes could be somehow washed away?

"What was used to draw those symbols?" The Warden asked his witch.

"Most likely, 'tis a mixture of ashes, chalk, and bee's wax. 'Tis not so much what they are drawn with, however, as much as it is the rune itself. The ingredients used are mainly to keep the rune from being accidentally altered or possibly wiped clean. Why do you ask?"

"I think I have an idea."

"It's about bloody time!" Silas exclaimed, "What is it?"

"It's not going to be very pleasant, but it should work well enough."

"I know that tone. What have you cooking in that head of yours, Dwemer Cousland?" Morrigan inquired with her hands firmly placed against her hips.

"Tell me, do you ladies still have to pee?"

With a sudden realization, her warden's plan came into clear view. "You cannot be serious!" the witch quipped, "You expect Dyana and I to piss all over the floor and use that to wipe the runes away?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"I can't even start to tell you how gross that is." Silas said, shuddering.

"We don't have much time to debate this. We have to find Alistair and the ceremony is already starting."

"_Fine_." Morrigan relented flatly.

"Dyana, what about you?"

"I'm in." the captain confirmed, "But you can't look, otherwise I'll never be able to go."

"We won't look, I promise." The Warden assured.

"Silas, give me your shirt." Morrigan ordered as she held out her hand.

"My shirt? What for?" the youth asked, a bit surprised.

"I shall need something to wipe the markings away."

"But my shirt? Couldn't you use something else?"

"Time is of the essence, young warden."

"Alright..." Silas mumbled as he removed his shirt and handed it to the witch.

"You may have it back when I am finished."

"_Ick_! Just keep it."

Morrigan gripped the edges of the shirt in her hand, and with a stiff tug, pulled the stitching apart and separated the fabric into two pieces, one of which she handed to Dyana. The two women then set about their unusual task as best they could. Not having the proper physiology slowed things down a bit as each woman had to walk around the room, stopping to squat at various intervals in order to apply the necessary amount of liquid before wiping the area clean of any marks. The Warden and Silas each turned to face away from the bizarre scene that was taking place only a few feet from them.

"I'm all out." Dyana announced as she stood up adjusted her skirt.

"I finished what I can, as well." Morrigan said, "We were unable to remove all the symbols, but we've erased many of them. It may be sufficient for me to use my abilities."

"Try something." The Warden urged his witch, "Melt the lock on your door."

"As you wish." Morrigan replied, walking up to the locked cell door.

Slowly, the witch raised her left hand towards the lock that held the door closed tight. She bowed her head and closed her eyes in an attempt to summon all her magic. Normally, such a lock would hardly provide any resistance to Morrigan's abilities, but her still-weakened condition, combined with the remaining runes and glyphs, turned the weak little lock into a stout adversary. The silent and motionless battle continued to rage as Morrigan struggled to find the power to overcome the symbols and destroy the lock.

"I cannot." she said with an exhausted gasp after many minutes of trying. "There are still too many runes and I am still too weak. 'Tis impossible."

"You can't give up!" her warden cried from the adjacent cell. "Morrigan, if you can't get us out of here, then everything is lost and we'll never see our son again. Don't give up now. I know you can do this. You have to."

"Seth?" the witch asked weakly.

"Do it for him. He needs us now, more than ever."

"I...I shall try."

Once more Morrigan bowed her head and stretched out her hands toward the lock. And, as before, there was a long silence as she sought the strength to impose her will on the barred metal door that sealed her inside the cold stone prison. Tiny beads of sweat formed on her brow and she started to tremble from the intense internal struggle, but this time the witch thought about her young son and the prospect of never seeing him again, and found the added power she needed. Small wisps of smoke began to rise from the keyhole, puffing out in ever bigger streams, until the entire lock glowed a bright red, consumed by the heat of the witch's magic. There was a slight _clank_, followed by another, louder, creaking sound, and the lock broke apart and fell in several pieces onto the cold stone floor.

"_Yes!_" The Warden exclaimed, "I knew you could do it."

The younger warden was unable to contain his exuberance and immediately rushed the door. "Alright, let's get out of here!" he cried.

"Silas, wait!" The Warden shouted, attempting to stop his young counterpart. But it was too late. Silas quickly grabbed the door and started to swing it open, determined to be free of his cage.

"_Yeowch_!" Silas yelled out when his bare palm caressed still smoldering metal, "That's hot!"

"I tried to warn you. But as usual, you didn't listen." The older warden scolded. "How bad did you burn yourself?"

"Not bad. I pulled my hand away before any damage was done."

"Still..."

"I know, I know."

"If you are done making a complete fool of yourself, _I_ would like to leave." Morrigan said as she slipped by Silas and kicked the door open and exited the cell, followed by Captain Dyana.

Once in the walkway, and free from the influence of the markings in the cell, the witch was easily able to blow the lock on The Warden's cage with a quick zap from her finger. The Warden and Leo both rushed out of their cell to join the others in the walkway.

"I see your powers are working just fine." The Warden observed.

"True, what little I have. But unless I am able to restore my power further, you may not count on much magical assistance."

"You and Dyana head to the armory. There should still be a few lyrium potions there, if the Order hasn't messed with them."

"And what of you?"

"Silas and I will head for the courtyard and see if we can put a dent in Denolian's plans."

"I do not like being separated from you. You know how I worry."

"You'll do fine without me. I'm sure you two can handle any trouble you come across."

"I was referring to you." the witch quipped, "_Ass_."

"I love you, too." he replied with a sly grin. "Take Leo with you, just in case."

"Very well. At least he has the sense _not_ to grab a hot door."

"C'mon Silas. We have a priest to stop and a king to save."

"Just another day in the life of a Grey Warden, eh?" Silas replied.

The two men darted off down the west passage that led to the stairs out of the cellar, and ultimately the main door, while Morrigan, Dyana, and Leo headed east, to the opposite end of the cellar. Morrigan found the door that opened the way to the small hall that ran through the middle of the sub-castle and the three of them followed the tight passageway passed the door to Morrigan's workspace and up the stairs leading to the main floor.

Most of the Order's members had already gathered outside, so The Warden and Silas found no resistance as they crept through the corridors. The Warden found it odd that no guards were on duty at any of their posts, especially considering there was probably darkspawn nearby, although he and Silas hadn't encountered any. Apparently, Denolian believed he had already won and there was no further need for the soldiers, or he had managed to somehow stop the darkspawn from entering the castle altogether. Either way, The Warden intended to show the priest just how much his arrogance would cost him.

Upon arriving at the main door, The Warden gently turned the metal ring in his hand and cracked the opening just wide enough to see what was happening in the courtyard below. He saw the entire area lit up with soft candlelight and torches. Hundreds of people were gathered in the center while Denolian addressed them from behind the podium. All of the faithful members each held a goblet containing the same wine The Warden had seen at the temple in Highever.

Standing behind the priest, chained shackled and guarded by the same two large men who were in the dungeon earlier, was Alistair. He looked pale and weak and he was sweating profusely, barely able to hold himself up. The Warden thought his friend looked as if he had been poisoned.

He watched as Denolian finished his long-winded oration and stepped down from behind the podium. The priest walked over to a small wooden box that had been set on the table beside the orbs' chest and opened it. From inside he pulled the glittering Eye of Arvisarok and draped the long gold chain around his neck. The Warden watched Denolian enjoy a sadistic shudder of satisfaction as the priest gazed down at the twinkling gem resting against his chest.

With a gesture from the priest, the two guards brought the king forward and forced him to his knees. Denolian eyed Alistair with a perverse grin on his face, gleefully giddy about the horror that was about to come. He reached out and placed both his thumbs in the center of the king's forehead and wrapped his slender fingers around to press against the temples.

The priest let out a cackle, looked down at Alistair, and said, "Now, your majesty, let us begin."


	33. Chapter 33

**Part XXXIII**

Arl Eamon moved the headquarters from the royal palace, to his own estate in Denerim, located just a few blocks to the south of the palace. It was a place he was far more familiar and comfortable with, and he felt it better suited to his needs. While his earlier meeting with General Regorda hadn't gone off as perfectly as he hoped, Eamon was sure he planted a seed of doubt in the general's head. Perhaps, that seed would grow and ultimately cause the general to question his role in the Order's plans. In the meantime, however, the arl had plans of his own to make, for just outside the city, the Order's army readied itself for the attack.

"The Order is preparing to make their final assault. It looks like they're about to throw everything they have at us." a concerned Bann Teagan told his brother.

"I would not have expected anything less." Eamon replied as he thoughtfully stroked his gray beard. "I want every last available man left in Denerim to be ready to defend the city at all costs."

"Yes, brother. But we'll still be woefully out-manned. There are more than fifteen thousand men outside the gates ready to storm the city and kill every man, woman, and child in Denerim. Even with the addition of your men, we barely have a third of those numbers."

"I'm aware of that, Teagan. But Denerim is a strong old city and we've had plenty of time to reinforce our position. There is still reason to hope."

"Still, whatever plan The Warden is hatching, he needs to do it soon."

"You'll get no disagreement from me." Eamon said, "Once again, it seems the survival of all Ferelden is placed squarely on his shoulders."

"Dwemer won't let us down. I'm sure of it." Leliana offered as hopefully as she could. "I'm confident we'll soon receive word he's beaten Denolian and retaken Castle Cousland."

"Five against an entire garrison?" Eamon replied, sounding somewhat doubtful that it was a task even The Grey Warden was up to, "Let us hope your faith in your friends is rewarded."

"Dwemer will come through. You'll see."

"And what say you, elf? Do you feel the same?" Eamon asked Zevran, who was silently observing the others, "Do you feel as your comrade does?"

"I am hardly the optimist that Leliana is." Zevran answered, "But our friend does admittedly have a knack for beating the odds on a rather consistent basis. At this point, I would hardly be surprised by anything The Warden does."

Eamon nodded in agreement with the elf before adding, "Whatever the case, there is only so much we can do here. Beyond that, it's in the Maker's hands."

The group continued to plan for the inevitable attack, looking at maps and debating over the best way to position the men in order repel the invaders, while outside the city gates, General Regorda's officers issued final orders to his men. The General, himself, though, was alone in his tent, pacing back and forth and deep in thought.

Eamon had unwittingly given Regorda a great deal more to ponder than he could have known. Even before their meeting, the general was starting to have misgivings about his master and their "divine" plan, but he kept such thoughts buried deep inside and refused to acknowledge them for fear of questioning the Maker's intent. But after hearing Eamon's words about Denolian's true nature, the disturbing thoughts would not be denied any longer. They swirled through the general's head as he considered everything the mad priest had told him since they first met. But above all, there was one thing the priest had said that stuck out in the general's mind more than anything else: _My glory_.

Just after the battle at Highever, those were the words Regorda had heard Denolian say, and they had troubled him ever since. He had heard the priest say those two damning words and they were still freshly clinging to the general's memory like the haze one feels just after waking from a horrible nightmare. As much as Regorda was loath to admit it, he was forced to consider that Eamon might very well be correct.

But it was far too late to turn back from his course now. Even if the arl had been right about everything, Regorda figured that if the Maker had truly desired Denolian and his followers to fail, he would have already made it so. The general solidified his resolve over the matter and was determined to see his path through to the end. He convinced himself that Eamon was a savvy diplomat who knew exactly what to say. If Regorda was to doubt his own place in the Order, then that doubt could trickle down through the ranks, thereby making Eamon's job much easier. A cunning tactic, indeed. The general wiped the remaining thoughts from his mind and focused himself on what must be done. Despite the arl's pleas, Denerim would not be spared the sword.

As the general was about to leave, he could hear the rapid footfalls of someone running toward his tent. From outside, he heard one of his men shouting, "General, come quick! There's something happening in the sky!"

The general tossed the flap of his tent aside and stepped out to see the soldier, who was panting heavily, both visibly shaken and transfixed by something.

"What is it? What's going on?" Regorda asked the man.

The man said nothing. Instead, he simply pointed toward the western sky. Regorda turned his head to see what had the man so agitated, and what he saw moved him greatly. High in the sky was a huge burning ball of light that rippled with blue, green, and purple hues. It's bright glow lit up the night sky as if it were midday, even though the object was hundreds of miles away.

"The Calling has commenced!" the general exclaimed. "Our task is clear. Order then men to start the attack."

* * *

The corridors were empty as Morrigan, Dyana, and Leo swiftly made their way from the eastern part of the main floor to the armory, which was located just passed the kitchen and down a separate hall. The absence of the Order's guards was not so surprising as the lack of darkspawn. The witch could feel a powerful magic emulating about the castle that was holding the evil horde at bay, at least in the immediate vicinity. How long it would continue to do so was anyone's guess. So the witch worked quickly to sort through the many odds and ends contained on the shelves in the armory until she finally found what she was looking for.

On the top shelf she found three small clear vials that were filled with a pale blue liquid that seemed to glow slightly. These were the lyrium potions Morrigan desperately needed to rejuvenate her lost energies. One was sufficient to restore her strength, but the witch grabbed all three, figuring she would probably need the others soon enough. She uncorked the top of one of the vials and quickly downed its contents.

Morrigan felt the warmth of the lyrium flooding her body, giving back what was lost in the fight in Highever, and a devious smile crossed her face. She had regained her magic and knew just what to do with it. It was time for the Order of Bohlen to be on the receiving end of some mayhem for a change. The witch would greatly enjoy a bit of retribution.

As they were about to leave, Morrigan spied a wooden chest set next to the wall. In it was her warden's newest suit of armor; one that he hadn't yet worn. It was another custom set made for him by the smith, Wade, and was made from the skin of the high dragon he had slain in the Frostback Mountains years ago, during the Blight. The armor was a bit heavier than the type The Warden usually wore, but it offered greater resistance to injury and was even better protection than the drake scale he normally used. The lid creaked a bit as the witch opened it to retrieved the items inside.

After grabbing a few more essential pieces of equipment, the two women and the mabari hurried from the armory and raced to meet with The Warden and Silas who were at the main door overlooking the courtyard. At least, that's where he was supposed to be. But Morrigan knew all too well that her warden would act, with or without her help, if he felt it was necessary. It was up to her to find him and temper his enthusiasm before he got himself killed; something the witch constantly was afraid he'd do. She was sure his concern for others well-being above his own was going to be his undoing. If only he'd learn to be more selfish, she thought.

At the main door, Silas stood silently behind his mentor while The Warden peered through door that was opened just wide enough to allow a sliver of light in. In the courtyard, beyond, The Warden watched in horror as Denolian worked his dark magic on the king, who knelt before the mad priest.

The members of the Order chanted an eerie verse, while Denolian muttered ancient words not spoken on Ferelden in hundreds of years. Alistair's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he started to sway in rhythm to the chanting, almost as if it was controlling him. The mad priest's voice began to change from its normal soothing tone to a low, guttural growl that sounded less like a man and more like some unholy beast. With a loud shout, he took his hands from Alistair's head, allowing the king to collapse to the ground.

Within seconds, Alistair started shaking violently and his entire body was wracked with massive convulsions. It was as if something was consuming him from the inside. He writhed about the ground in agony, and his face was etched with a tight grimace as each painful spasm gripped him. Denolian's eyes grew wide with delight while he watched the spectacle at his feet.

As Alistair's torture continued, a glowing ball began to form overhead. It grew ever larger, rippling with green, blue, and purple colors as it rose higher into the sky. At the same time, the king seemed to be wasting away. His eyes sank deep into their sockets and his skin was shriveling up like that of an old man. It seemed as though Denolian was wringing the very life from him and wasn't going to be satisfied until he had extracted every last drop.

"We have to do something! They're killing him!" The Warden said, completely horrified at what he was witnessing.

"So you're going to do what? Just rush out there and save the day?" Silas replied, "We don't even have any weapons or armor. Now who's being reckless?"

"Stay here and wait for Morrigan and Dyana."

"Dwemer, wait..."

But it was no use. The Warden had already opened the door wide and stepped out without paying any heed to his protégé. He slammed the door shut behind him, making a loud _slam_ and alerting every single member of the Order to his presence. Activity in the courtyard came to a screeching halt as all eyes became fixed on the man who would dare interrupt them.

The priest turned around and looked to the top of the stairs to see The Warden slowly making his way down to the courtyard. "Ah, Warden." he said, "So good of you to join us."

"Let Alistair go, you monster!" The Warden ordered.

"Oh, but I can't do that. You see, thanks to his royal blood, The Calling is ten times stronger and louder than it would have been otherwise." the priest responded in a cordial tone, "Face it, Warden, you've lost. That which has been done cannot be undone."

"What are you talking about?"

"Behold, Warden, the birth of a new age is upon us. Tonight, the world of men will be swept away forever."

From among the crowd, there arose groans. Only a few at first, then more and more as each follower began to receive the reward for their faithful service. Many doubled over from the pain as the groans turned into outright cries of agony. The hair fell from their bodies and their skin turned sickly and pale, while their eyes were replaced by dark black orbs. No longer did they sound like human men and women, but like feral wild animals. They tore their clothes from their bodies, screaming and howling beneath the light of the blazing ball.

While similar, these were not the same creatures that The Warden and his witch faced on the dark staircase. They were taller, more muscular, and appeared to be substantially stronger than their impish counterparts. And worst of all, there were hundreds of them. Every last member of the Order who had partaken of the wine and witnessed The Calling suffered the effects.

Denolian cackled with glee at the sight, while his eyes twinkled with an unholy fire. The amulet around his neck started glowing as it siphoned the life force from each of the mad priest's followers. A golden aura enveloped Denolian as the Eye of Arvisarok transferred its stolen energy to him and he began to grow in size, his form changing as he grew ever larger with each passing second. His skin color changed from its normal milky-white, to a deep, dark red, and the priest's eyes blazed with hellfire.

"Yes! Yes!" Denolian shouted as he continued to grow, "Yes, my children! Give me all your power!"

Morrigan and Dyana hurried through the castle on their way to meet up with The Warden, with each woman carrying an arm full of weapons and armor. But as they passed near the main hall, Morrigan saw someone down at the far end. It was someone she had been greatly hoping to come across, and finally the witch had her chance. At the opposite end of the corridor was the Black Warden heading for the rear of the castle.

He had decided not to take part in Denolian's grand ceremony in the courtyard, and instead chose to remain in the castle to keep any stray darkspawn from interfering. He was on his way to the rear gate of the castle in order to verify that there were none of the vile beasts present, and to more easily have a quick exit should things go sour.

"Here. Take these and bring them to Dwemer and Silas." Morrigan said as she handed her bundle of objects to the captain. "I will join you as soon as I am able. First, however, there is a matter I must attend to."

The witch turned her focus to the mabari, saying, "Leo, stay with Dyana and keep her out of trouble. Is that understood?"

"Woof!" the dog replied obediently as he wagged his tail.

Dyana cast a puzzled look at Morrigan, "What am I supposed to tell The Warden?" she asked.

"Tell him whatever you wish. I care not. Now, hurry, you've no time to dawdle." were the witch's final words to the captain as she bolted off down the corridor after the Black Warden.

The dark figure saw Morrigan and turned to face her steely glare. He reached his arms back over his shoulders and pulled two glistening blades from their sheaths and assumed a defensive posture.

"So, witch, I see you managed to free yourself. I can't say I'm surprised." he said. "The question is: What do you plan to do with that freedom? Hmmm?"

"Simple," the witch replied as she stomped closer to him, "I shall kill _you_."

"A tall order for one so delicate. Let's see if you're up to the task."

Without saying another word, Morrigan started to run toward her target, raising her hands in the air as she did. In a bright flash of light, an enormous brown bear replaced the witch's slender form and it charged down the corridor. The tremendous beast instantly attacked the Black Warden as soon as she was close enough, swiping at him with a mighty paw.

The Black Warden barely dodged the attack and rolled to the side while Morrigan's clawed feet slid against the stone floor and slammed into the wall with a loud crash. Undeterred, the bear roared ferociously and again lunged at the dark figure, who again, was able to avoid the attack with a quick side-step.

The Black Warden whirled his blades around to strike and thrust their deadly tips outward, catching Morrigan in the right shoulder and piercing her flesh. She let out an enraged roar and swung her paw around, hitting the Black Warden in his chest and batting him away.

He sailed through the air and landed on his backside against the hard and unforgiving floor. One of his swords was knocked loose from his grasp and went sliding down the corridor and out of reach. As he desperately scrambled to his feet, the bear bore down on him once more.

Again he attacked with his sword, stabbing right at the bear's heart. But the beast knocked his blade to the side and used her other paw to press him backward until his back was against the wall. With her immense girth, Morrigan held him in place as she let out another loud roar. His eyes grew wide at the sight of so many large, razor-sharp teeth so close to his vulnerable skin. The bear raised its left paw and prepared for the final, killing blow.

Fur and claw whisked through the air as she brought her massive arm down. But instead of feeling bone crushing beneath her, Morrigan's paw passed clear through the dark figure. In an instant, he had transformed into a shadowy wisp of formless smoke. The shade dispersed all around the bear before collecting itself behind her. The smoke seemed to laugh as it sped down the hall and forced itself under one of the closed doors and vanished.

"_Damn_!" the witch fumed upon returning to her human form. "You think you've escaped. But you have merely postponed the inevitable."

Still cursing her bad luck, Morrigan ran back down the corridor to the main door in order to join up with her warden and the others. As much as she desired to try to track down her quarry, she knew Denolian was still the primary threat and needed to be dealt with first. Her business with the Black Warden would have to wait until another time.

She found Dyana, Silas, and Leo standing at the main entrance, waiting for her. The captain had provided the younger warden with armor, one of The Warden's older suits of drake scale, which sagged a bit on his smaller frame, and a weapon. He was now suitably equipped for a fight. The witch was hardly surprised to see that her warden was not among them. She really didn't need to ask where he was or what he was doing, she already knew he was trying the handle everything on his own. As usual.

"I see that pig-headed man of mine has gone off to challenge the fates yet again." she said with a deep sigh, "Perhaps, it may have been best to leave him in the cage."

"He went to save Alistair." Silas informed, "Denolian was doing something awful to him."

"I told the fool to wait until after they had finished the ceremony. Until then, there is nothing he can do." the witch huffed. "Well, come one then, before he manages to get himself killed."

Without paying heed to secrecy or silence, the witch pushed the large wooden door open and stepped through, followed by Silas, Dyana, and Leo. The sight that greeted the trio was something none of them could have imagined. Where there was once a crowded courtyard filled to the brim with the Order's faithful, now stood hundreds of sickly, demonic looking creatures. Towering above them all was Denolian, who had grown to an incredible height of nearly twenty feet tall. The gem in the amulet around his neck glowing brightly. At the bottom of the stairs was The Warden, who appeared as though he was seconds away from leaping headlong into battle, even without proper protection or a weapon.

"I think they finished the ceremony." Silas noted.

"Dwemer!" the witch called out, "The amulet! You must destroy it!"

The giant priest turned his gaze on the three puny mortals that joined The Warden at the bottom of the stairs and began to chuckle. In his deep, booming voice he said, "How delicious! You are all here to witness the final act."

The Warden quickly contemplated several strategies before finally settling on one he reasoned had the best chance of succeeding. "Morrigan, you'll have to find a way to amplify the orbs call to the darkspawn."

"Have you gone mad?" the witch asked as she tossed her warden his blades, "Were I to do that, this courtyard would be overrun with the vile things."

"Exactly." he agreed, "Silas, grab the smallest orb from the chest. Then you and Dyana keep those monsters off Morrigan so she can do what needs to be done."

"And what of you?"

"Like you said, I need to destroy that amulet." came his reply as he tossed the armor to the side and pulled the blades from their sheaths and jumped down into the demons' midsts. "Keep her safe, boy." The Warden said to the mabari before turning and running off to face the priest.

"Whatever you're planning, Warden, it won't work." the monstrous priest said, "Annihilate them, my children!"

The mass of twisted forms all turned their attention onto the small group at the bottom of the stairs. They gnashed their teeth and swiped at the air with their sharp claws. In one swarming motion, the gruesome fiends launched themselves at the trio and the mabari.

"Stay on the stairs!" The Warden shouted, "Don't let them surround you!"

"Silas, the orb! Quickly!" the witch urged the younger warden.

The table that held the chest containing the orbs was just to the left of the staircase, but the devilish beasts racing toward them made the distance seem far greater than it actually was. Silas jumped down off the side of the stairs and ran over to the chest. In one swift motion, he popped the latches and knocked the top of the chest backward, opening it and revealing the Orbs of Arastani.

He reached in and pulled the smallest orb from it's cradle. But just as he was about to hurry back to the witch with his prize, he noticed the first of the imps bearing down on him. He twirled his body and narrowly avoided the sharp claws of the first beast to reach him. He brought his sword down, slicing the creature's arm from it's shoulder, causing the imp to howl in pain. A second imp jumped over the table, knocking the chest off and spilling the other two orbs out on the ground as it lunged for the younger warden with a high screech. Silas dodged its rapid attacks, deftly stepping from side to side while it clawed at him ferociously, before swinging his blade around and decapitating the foul beast. Dark blood spurted freely from its neck as the imp's body toppled over and fell into the dirt. Silas looked to see more of the unholy creatures speeding toward him, eager to rend his flesh. Deciding it probably wasn't the best idea to face the entire pack on his own, Silas turned on his heels and dashed back to the stairs.

"Here you go." he said as he flipped the orb to the witch.

Morrigan was barely able to avoid the object and it landed against the steps with a clatter and rolled down to the very bottom. "_Idiot_!" she hollered, "Do not _hand_ it to me!"

"What's the problem?"

"Only a Grey Warden may touch the orbs, for all others 'tis a death sentence."

"Oh. Well, nobody told me that. I didn't know."

"Go fetch it and place it on the steps above us. I shall need you and Dyana to hold off those fiends whilst I work with the orb." the witch instructed before turning to the mabari. "Leo, stay close. You are my last line of defense."

Leo gave an acknowledging bark.

Silas placed the small orb on one of the steps near the top, stopping only long enough to ensure that it wouldn't roll off its perch, he then flitted back down the steps to the bottom where he and the captain stood side-by-side and formed the best human barricade they could. The witch placed all her attention on the orb and commenced to tap her magical energies.

Meanwhile, The Warden was busy trying to distract Denolian and keep him from meddling with Morrigan's efforts. He hopped in and out between a pair of huge legs, trying to tangle the giant priest up with his own feet. Denolian's great arm flailed through the air at the insignificant insect. The Warden wasn't quite fast enough to avoid the attack and the back of Denolian's hand glanced off The Warden. Even though it wasn't full impact, the force of the blow was enough to send The Warden careening through the air. He landed hard against the ground on his side and the wind was knocked from his lungs.

He spat dirt from his mouth as he stood, an deep aching throb in his side. "Morrigan, hurry! Alistair doesn't have much time!" he yelled.

"'Tis finished!" she hollered back as she kicked the small orb off the step. It struck several imps on its way to the ground, instantly killing them. "'Twill be a several minutes before we know if I was successful or not."

"We may not have that long."

"Perhaps I can buy us more time." she replied as her arms went into the air and a soft glow enveloped her.

The witch's outline swelled dramatically as she changed forms. There was a bright flash, and where Morrigan had been, there was now an imposing high dragon. Her thick black scales shimmered in the light of the glowing sphere and she spread her enormous, leathery wings, letting out a deafening roar. The ground shook as she leaped into the air and took flight.

Morrigan flew up and around the castle towers, before flying low to attack. Her great maw opened and a long stream of flame came gushing forth, incinerating a large clump of the imps and cutting a swath of fire through them. The creatures screamed and howled in pain as their flesh burned and bubbled. Those that weren't killed outright, were badly scorched and lay twitching and moaning on the ground.

The witch circled around again, this time tearing into the imps with her talons as they scattered before her, trying to flee. She plucked monsters from the ground with her massive claws and tossed them high into the air, only for them to come crashing back down against the ground. Some she threw against the solid stone walls and towers, enjoying the sight of their fragile bodies snapping and breaking against the bricks.

"So the witch has learned a new trick." the giant said, a slight tinge of humor in his voice. "_I _have a few surprises, as well."

The hellfire in the giant's eyes formed into a beam that shot forth from his sockets. Their power cut through the soft membrane of one of the dragon's wings and punched a hole through it, sending Morrigan spiraling downward and crashing into the ground.

"Morrigan!" The Warden shouted as he ran to her side.

The dragon's form faded and shrank until the witch regained her human form. She lay against the ground groaning from the impact; dazed and stunned. When The Warden reached her, he scooped her up in his arms and hurried to bring her back to the safety of the top of the stairs. Dyana and Silas parted just long enough to let The Warden slip between them before closing the gap. The bodies of the imps piling up on the lower steps were starting to make for difficult footing, and The Warden had to jump over many corpses while he carried his witch to the top.

Once there, he gently lowered her down. She was cut and bleeding badly from her head, in addition to the two stab wounds on her back that he hadn't noticed until now. Upon seeing his hands soaked in her blood, fear and panic began to overwhelm The Warden as he looked upon his wounded bride.

"Morrigan..." he whispered.

"'Tis not so bad as it seems." she replied weakly. "I shall be fine. You must hurry and destroy the Eye before 'tis too late."

"We can't hold them back any longer!" The Warden heard Silas shout to him. "Dwemer! They're going to break through! What do we do?"

There came no answer from The Warden, only a silent stare.

"Dwemer!" Silas shouted again as he and the captain slowly fought their way backwards up the steps, trying hard to stem the surge of imps that constantly tore at them. "Dwemer!"

"I...I don't know." he muttered.


	34. Chapter 34

**Part XXXIV**

The giant burning ball of light in the sky lit up the city streets with a pale blueish light, making it very easy for two of Teagan's knights to see exactly what was happening as they spied on the Order's faithful who were hiding in the old abandoned warehouse at the western edge of the Market district. The members, unaware that they were being observed, gathered for some sort of ceremony which involved a ritual wine and chanting. But what had been a normal religious rite, suddenly turned into something much more alarming.

After they drank their wine and chanted their verses, all the gathered members looked out the large window at the west end of the building to behold the bright burning object, and that's when something very disturbing happened. From among the group there began to come screams and shrieks. The hidden knights watched as the Order's members started to transform into hideous creatures. The mob of devils tore off their clothes and began howling like animals at the shining orb hovering far in the western sky. They ransacked the warehouse, tearing it to pieces in their mindless fury, and then, to the horror of the watching knights, busted down the door and poured into the streets of Denerim.

"We have to alert the arl!" one of the knights said to his companion, and they darted off, trying their best to remain unseen by the fiends.

At the Arl of Redcliffe's estate, news was coming in from all over the city of monsters and crazed demons running amuck in the city streets. Everything was happening exactly as the elf and the bard predicted. But the bad news didn't stop there. Just outside the city, the Order's army prepared to make their assault, unveiling a special new weapon built just for that purpose.

From behind one of the low-rising ridges that surrounded Denerim, the Order was rolling an imposing structure into position. It stood three stories tall and was covered in plates of hardened steel riveted tightly into place. Small slits that served as windows were evenly spaced along the second and third tiers of the device, while the bottom level contained a long wooden pole that swung on heavy chains and ropes and tipped with a round, solid iron cap; obviously meant to smash the city's wooden gate to pieces.

Eamon didn't plan on having to fight a battle on two fronts and simply didn't have enough men to deal with the situation. As it was, his forces were spread dangerously thin in order to protect Denerim from the impending attack by the Order. But the new threat that came from within the city, itself, was a complete surprise. Given the stakes, however, Eamon steadfastly refused to accept defeat. If he wasn't able to do something, and quickly, Denerim was going to be ripped apart from both ends. In such a time of great desperation, the arl did the only thing he could think of to save the city. He gave the order to open the gates.

Of course, the arl's men all thought he had gone stark raving mad. His lieutenants strongly advised against opening the gate, with good reason. The Order wasn't likely to give any quarter or accept any surrender. It was suicide to simply allow them into the city without a fight.

With a calm demeanor, Eamon addressed their concerns by saying, "If we are to meet our fate tonight, it shall not be before General Regorda and his men see what it is their master has wrought upon this land."

At the city gates, the siege tower was ready and the dark army awaited the signal from their general to proceed with the attack. At the front of the long column, Regorda sat atop his black steed and raised his shining blade into the air. But before he could swing it down to commence the assault, the loud sound of metal gears turning cut through the air, followed by a low moaning creak. To his amazement, he watched as the city gates began to spread apart, opening the way before him.

"General! The gate is opening!" one of his officers yelled.

"I can see that." Regorda replied, "It would seem our agents inside the city have been successful after all. Prepare to charge."

But instead of finding more of their brethren waiting for them on the other side, the army was greeted to the sight of total chaos. As the huge doors parted, they saw the streets had already become a battleground, but it wasn't other members of the Order that the royal army was fighting. It was something else entirely.

"By the Maker!" Regorda gasped, "What are those creatures?"

"Behold, general!" came a voice from the wall above, it was Arl Eamon's, "Now do you see?"

"This trick won't save you, Eamon." Regorda called back.

"If only it was a trick, but I'm afraid it's all too real. These bloodthirsty demons are what's left of your Order's followers. _This _is what Denolian intends for every person in Ferelden and beyond." the arl said as he gestured to the screaming fiends that ran through the streets.

A shock ran through the general. Could it be true, he wondered. He knew the arl was as crafty as they came, but to risk the entire city on such a ploy was pure insanity. Regorda was certain that Eamon had enough troops to put up a reasonable fight without having to rely on petty trickery. The general continued the watch the scene that played out in front of him as a sudden stark realization overwhelmed him.

_My Glory_.

"Maker, forgive me. What have I done?" he muttered as he buried his face in his hands.

"General...?" the lieutenant asked, unsure.

Regorda gathered himself and his face became stone serious, "There's been a change of plans, lieutenant." he said, "I cannot let others suffer for my mistakes. Destroy every last demon and protect the people of Denerim."

"Ser...?"

"You heard me. Now..._attack_!" Regorda cried out as he buried his spurs into his horse's side and led the charge into battle, shouting, "We must save the city!"

* * *

Silas, Dyana, and Leo did their best to hold the line against so many unholy fiends, but the ghouls were pressing them back up the courtyard stairs. The three of them were fast running out of room to fight off the beasts. The Warden, meanwhile, stood at the landing at the top stairs, hovering over his wounded witch. Towering over all of them was the mad priest whose maniacal laughter filled the air.

"And so, the great Grey Warden and his stalwart companions finally meet their end." Denolian said in a loud, booming voice. "This is even better than I could have hoped."

"It's not over yet!" The Warden yelled back as he reached out and pulled the heavy door in front of him open, "Quickly everyone, get inside the castle!"

Leo was the first to respond, racing past his master and into the safety of the stone castle. The Warden attempted to gather his witch in his arms, but she refused, intending to withdraw under her own power. Morrigan stood as quickly as she could, stumbling slightly while The Warden urged her to take his hand for support. Again, she refused the help, saying, "Impossible man. I am quite capable of standing on my own. I need no assistance." But after only a couple of steps, the witch stumbled again, landing in his strong arms.

He wrapped her arm around his shoulders and carried her through the open door, saying, "You're getting help whether you like it or not. I don't have time to argue with you right now. You can be mad at me later."

Morrigan's only response was a fierce glare.

"Dyana! Silas! Come on!" The Warden shouted over his shoulder.

The younger warden turned to the captain and nodded his head in the direction of the open door, saying, "You go on. I'll cover you."

The captain turned and sprinted for the opening, shouting, "Hurry, Silas!"

"Someone's got to hold them back!" he hollered in return.

"Silas, what are you doing? Don't be a fool! Get in here now!" The Warden urged his young ward.

"Remember me." was all he said.

"_Silas, No_!"

Fighting his way backward, Silas neared the open doorway. But instead of jumping through it to join the others, he kicked his right leg back, slamming the door shut, and sealed himself off from the others.

"_SILAS!_"

From the other side of the door, the muffled sounds of metal cleaving flesh was replaced by animalistic growls as the young warden was overrun. Clawed hands could be heard tearing into soft flesh and pulling limb from limb. The Warden and his comrades knew that the young warden had met a most gruesome fate. He had given his life so that they might live.

Before the shock of what happened was able to set in, the witch yanked a decorative pike from its bracket on the wall and shoved it through the rings on the door, locking the party inside. The beasts outside banged relentlessly against the door, but the pike's shaft held fast, keeping them out. It would not do so for long, however. With so many ghouls clawing at the wood, it wouldn't be long before they were able to bust through.

"Silas...dammit...no." The Warden muttered as he slumped to his knees, his hands pounding against the stone wall beside him.

Morrigan crouched down beside her warden, placing her hand on his shoulder. "He did what was needed, my love. Let us not waste his sacrifice." she said to him softly. "We must go before they are able to break through the door."

The witch placed her arm around his and tugged, urging him up. He slowly rose from his spot and nodded, indicating that he understood. Together, the group headed through the castle foyer and down the eastern corridor.

"Where are we going?" Dyana asked.

"To mine and Morrigan's chambers." The Warden answered. "We still need to destroy the Eye, and I think I have an idea."

"Whatever you are planning, do it quickly. There is little time for us to waste. Alistair's life depends on it." the witch added, "For the rest, I fear 'tis already too late."

The group burst into The Warden and Morrigan's private chambers. It was the first time either the witch or her warden had been in the rooms since leaving for Redcliffe. Evidently, the Order found nothing of interest contained in them and everything appeared as it should be. The Warden peered out the window to see Denolian's gigantic form as the priest directed his devilish minions to break down the main door, unaware that he was being watched from behind.

"Look." The Warden said as he pointed to the courtyard below, "Something's happening."

The others gathered around him to see what he saw, and sure enough, dark splotches began popping up here and there around the courtyard. They formed into dark swirling circles in the ground, and from the circles something crawled out: darkspawn.

At first, there were only a few, but soon those were joined by more of their kind. There were all types, from the lowly gemlocks, to the mighty hurlock alphas, and even a good number of hulking ogres. It had taken them more time than expected, but the monsters had finally figured out a way passed Denolian's blocking magic to heed the call of the orbs.

The two types of demons stood apart from each other, each staring the others down with cold, menacing looks. It was almost as if one group was unsure what to make of the other as they eyed one another carefully across the courtyard. But the peace was to be short lived, however, as one of the alphas roared fiercely and swung its blade forward, initiating the attack. The rest soon followed and an all out battle between the two beastly armies commenced.

"Obliterate the trespassers, my children!" Denolian commanded in a booming voice.

The Warden, seeing his opportunity, slowly crawled onto the ledge of the window and out onto a sturdy branch of the willow tree that grew just outside.

"And just what do you think you are doing?" the witch asked, her hands finding their usual place on her hips.

He looked back at her over his shoulder and smiled. "Trust me." he said.

Morrigan let out a deep, long sigh. "I shall prepare the bandages." she said.

He could only shake his head at her, then proceed further out onto the limb. He held his arms out to balance himself and crept out onto the branch as far as he could. Denolian was facing the other way with his attention totally fixed on the battle beneath his feet, even having to shake an ogre or two away, who seemed unusually tiny next to the giant. All the while, The Warden waited patiently for his moment to act. And when it came, he did not hesitate. He leaped from the limb as hard as he could, landing on the priest's back and throwing his arms around the thick neck, holding on for dear life.

"Wha...?" the surprised giant said as his great arms wildly flailed about, trying to pry The Warden loose from his spot. "You dare to attack me, you insignificant insect? I shall instruct you on the true meaning of pain!" Denolian shouted while his arms continued to grasp at The Warden.

But attacking Denolian wasn't The Warden's plan at all. He instead was trying to unclasp the golden chain that hung about the giant's neck, thereby freeing the Eye of Arvisarok. He held on tightly with his right arm, while he took the other hand and fiddled with the large metal clasp. It wasn't an easy thing to do, either, given the fact the giant was intent of ripping The Warden from his spot. His bumbling fingers had quite a bit of difficulty in separating one part from the other.

He was going about this all wrong, The Warden thought to himself as he dangled freely above the ground. He was treating the chain like any other necklace, but it wasn't. It had, like the priest, grown in size considerably and the clasp couldn't be handled in the same manner as a smaller chain. But he did know of something similar. Something he was quite adept at removing: Morrigan's brassiere. With a quick twist of his fingers, the clasp popped apart and the chain fell away from the giant, landing in the dirt below.

The Warden dropped down to the ground and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the priest's giant stomping feet as he hollered, "What have you done?"

Tufts of dirts were kicked up by The Warden's boots as he scampered over to the large chain resting on the ground. Denolian was reaching for the amulet as well, as his long arm stretched out to retrieve the object. But The Warden was able to snatch up the chain before the mad priest could grasp it.

The Warden rushed away from the giant and straight toward the thick stone wall of the castle. With a gleam in his eye, he raised his arms into the air and twisted his waist, coiling up to do what needed to be done.

"_No_!" the giant shouted, "What are you doing?"

"This ends now." The Warden said, and he swung the heavy chain with all his might, causing the Eye to smash against the hard stone and shattering the gem into countless tiny fragments that went spinning through the air. There was a large explosion of blue and green flame that blasted The Warden backward, sending him flying several yards before he came crashing down against the hard dirt and knocking the wind from him.

"_NOOOOO_!" Denolian shrieked in terror.

The ground rumbled beneath The Warden's feet as the immense giant fell to his knees. The hellfire in his eyes started to boil in his skull, with random jets of light shooting out uncontrollably. Denolian screamed loudly and all action in the courtyard ceased as ghoul and darkspawn alike stopped and turned toward the giant. Small sparks of light seemed to tear away from the priest and light shot from his eyes in a steady, continuous beam. With each spark that escaped, Denolian shrank and withered, until he returned to his normal size. He lay there on the ground, twitching, until finally, all movement stopped. Then suddenly, the priest's body exploded in a ball of bright blue light. When the dust settled, all that remained of the priest were a few tattered pieces of his robe and a small crater in the ground that had small wisps of white smoke rising from its center.

Without their master's power to sustain them, the imps started to suffer the same fate. And, one by one, they each withered and died, their bodies collapsing lifelessly to the ground. All about the courtyard, their bodies covered the ground until there was hardly a bare patch of dirt left to be seen.

The darkspawn looked around, seemingly perplexed that their foes had suddenly all just died in front of them. With no other targets to suitably distract them, all their eyes trained on the lone man standing near the main structure of the castle. His eyes met theirs as he scanned them from one end to the other. The vile creatures could smell the taint in him, but they knew he was not of their kind. With a collective roar, they charged afterThe Warden.

"Oh, shit!" The Warden gasped and he started running for the stairs as fast as his feet would carry him.

He ran by the long tables that were set up and past the knocked-over chest that held the Orbs of Arastani. He stopped only long enough to sift through the tall blades of grass in order to locate the smallest of the orbs and bring it to his witch so that she might cancel its call to the darkspawn. Once he found what he was looking for and tucked it safely inside his shirt, he reached over his head, grabbed the stone banister above, and pulled himself up onto the staircase. He climbed the rest of the steps to the main door and gave a hard tug against it. But it wouldn't budge.

"Damn!" he fumed when he recalled how Morrigan had slid the pike through the metal rings.

"You must reach the cellar!" Morrigan shouted from the window. "Hurry!"

The Warden jumped from the side of the stairs and as soon as he landed on the ground below, he sprinted around the western edge of the castle, heading for the cellar doors. But the entire time he couldn't shake the feeling that he was forgetting something. Something very important.

"_Alistair_!" he remembered suddenly.

The Warden swiftly turned around and headed back to the courtyard, straight towards the mob of pursuing darkspawn. The monsters stopped in their tracks when they saw him running at them, as if confused by this tactic. He shoved a few of the darkspawn at the front of the pack aside and bolted around the staircase as he headed toward where the king was lying face down in the dirt, still bound by his shackles and motionless.

Not having time to be delicate, The Warden snatched Alistair from the ground and slung the king over his shoulder. He looked back to see that the darkspawn had cut off the path behind him. He was going to have to take the long way around.

Balls of flame began raining down from the window above, exploding on the ground in front of the mob of darkspawn, causing them to pause. "Make haste, my love." the witch urged as she continued to pelt the demons with her flame. "Dyana, take Leo and head to the cellar. You must ensure that they are able to make it inside." she commanded.

Again, The Warden broke into a run. This time with Alistair draped over his shoulder. He sped around the castle, with the darkspawn chasing behind. He hoped that they weren't smart enough to figure out where he was headed and there weren't any already at the cellar waiting for him. If that was the case, there was no way around it, he was finished.

A wave of relief came over The Warden when he turned the corner at the back of the castle to find that only Dyana was there holding the cellar door open and waiting for him. "Hurry!" she yelled to him.

He obliged the captain without hesitation, ducking into the cellar as Dyana swung the doors shut behind him. She flipped the latch into place and hooked the lock through it, clicking it shut with a stiff squeeze of her hand. Together, they hurried back up the stairs to the main floor of the castle, down the east corridor, and up the long ramp that lead to the second floor.

Upon arriving at his chambers, he laid Alistair across the bed. The Warden looked at his friend's still form hoping to see any signs of life at all, but couldn't find a trace. "C'mon, Alistair, wake up." he pleaded.

But still the king did not move. He only lay there completely motionless.

"Dammit, Alistair!" The Warden exclaimed and grabbed the king, shaking him. "Wake up!"

"Please oh please oh please oh please..." Dyana muttered over and over.

"'Tis too late, I'm afraid." Morrigan said. "I am sorry, my love."

"No, I won't accept that!" The Warden shouted as he desperately continued to stir the king. "Alistair, if you die on me, I swear I'll go to the Fade and kill you. Do you hear me? _Alistair_!"

After tense minutes passed, a soft groan came from Alistair. "Uhhh..." he moaned as he slowly started coming around.

"Thank the Maker! He's alive!" Dyana rejoiced as she clasped her hands together.

"None of us shall survive much longer if the darkspawn have their say. And Alistair is in no condition for a fight." the witch noted.

"Morrigan, do you think you can use the orb to drive them off? Reverse the beacon, so to speak?" The Warden asked.

"'Tis not what they were designed for." she replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I'm not asking you what they were designed for. Can you do it or not?"

The witch let out a sigh, "Very well. I shall see what can be done. You do have the orb, do you not?"

"Yeah, right here." The Warden said as he took the smallest orb from underneath his shirt and set it down in the table.

"Be warned. Anything I do to the orb shall affect you and Alistair as well."

"Understood." he said with a nod.

As Morrigan calmed herself and attempted to work with the orb, the sounds of the darkspawn clamoring through the castle could be heard. The Warden and Dyana stood close to the door, ready for any of the creatures that might try to force their way in. They could clearly hear glass being broken and furniture being overturned by the brutes as they stormed through the castle in search of their prey. The Warden cast the captain a look to be prepared for anything as the sounds crept ever closer to them.

Out of nowhere, a piercing screech filled The Warden's head, as if a banshee were screaming directly into his ears. "Gaaaah!" he cried out and dropped to his knees. At the same time, a weak and groggy Alistair covered his ears as he rolled back and forth on the bed, moaning in agony. Throughout the castle, the wails of the darkspawn could also be heard, as they too felt the affects of the high pitched squeal.

"Morrigan..." The Warden said weakly through his grimace while blood began to flow freely from his nose and ears.

"You must endure, my love. 'Twill not be much longer."

As the seconds ticked by, the screams of the darkspawn grew more distant as they withdrew farther away from the painful song of the orb, until at last, they could be no longer heard. When the witch felt it was safe enough, she exerted her control over the orb once more and caused it to fall silent, bringing much relief to both The Warden and Alistair.

"Is it over?" The Warden asked, gasping for air.

"Yes. 'Tis over. The Order has at last been vanquished and our home has been returned to us." the witch confirmed.

"Uhh..." Alistair moaned, "My head is killing me. What did I miss?"

"Alistair!" Dyana squealed as she ran over to the bed and threw her arms around him.

"You didn't miss much. Just you average megalomaniac trying to take over the world." The Warden answered, smirking.

"Oh, is that all?" the king returned with a smile while the captain peppered his face with kisses before squeezing him in a tight embrace "It's good to see you too, Dyana." he said to the captain as the force of her embrace knocked him backwards on the bed.

"Where's Silas?" the king asked, looking around for the youth.

No one said anything at first as all eyes drifted to The Warden. He quietly bowed his head and his stare went to the floor. "He didn't make it."

"Oh, Dwemer...I'm so sorry. I know he was like family to you."

"He died making sure we would live."

"Perhaps I was wrong about him after all." Morrigan said. "He shall be remembered with honor."

While the others honored the memory of the young warden who gave his life for them, something strange caught Dyana's eye. "What's that?" she asked as she looked toward the door. From beneath the small crack, a black vapor poured in and took the form of a dark cloud in the room. The cloud seemed to have a mind of its own as it whisked around the rafters before floating down to the small orb resting on the table.

"The Black Warden!" Morrigan exclaimed as she channeled her energy and prepared to fling it at the apparition.

"That's the Black Warden?" Alistair asked, puzzled.

"He is a shade." Morrigan answered. "Quickly, before he can escape!"

"Catch me if you can, Warden." the smoke said. And before the witch could let loose her spell, the smoke circled the orb and dove towards it, disappearing within.

"Damn!" the witch fumed.

"Apparently our business isn't quite finished just yet." The Warden said.

"You intend on going after him?"

"What do you think?"


	35. Chapter 35

**Part XXXV**

"If you think I shall allow you to sacrifice yourself to the orbs once more, you had best think again." Morrigan said with folded arms and an intense stare.

"It's alright, Morrigan." her warden reassured, "I can make it back. Remember, the taint gives me power over the orbs."

"So you've said before. But you are no mage. 'Tis a guarantee you cannot make."

"Morrigan..."

The witch let out a long sigh, "You simply refuse to listen. Very well, if that is how is must be, then I shall accompany you."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Unlike you, I _am_ a mage and am able to project myself into the orbs. I have already done so on several occasions. 'Tis how I located you while you were on the island, lest you have forgotten."

"Out of the question. You've already been hurt. I don't want to have to worry about you, too."

"You are getting help whether 'tis desired or not. We've no time to argue the matter. You may be angry with me later." Morrigan quipped, refusing to back down.

"Touché. Alright, you can go. But follow my lead. I don't want to have to be worrying about you, too."

"As you wish." the witch reluctantly complied, "You had best fetch your armor. 'Tis in the courtyard where you left it."

"Why does he need armor in the Fade?" Dyana asked, turning her attention from Alistair only long enough to pose the question.

"Because the projection of someone in the Fade replicates that person's appearance exactly, including any items worn or carried." Morrigan explained.

"Who says you can't take it with you?" Alistair joked with a smirk.

"I'll be right back." The Warden said as he exited the room, leaving down the corridor towards the castle's entrance.

Alistair turned his focus back to the captain, who was still kneeling over him on the bed, and said, "I have a question..."

"What's that?" Dyana replied.

"Is anyone going to get me out of these damn shackles?"

The Warden found his way to the courtyard, stepping down the stairs to a scene that had been a battleground only moments before. The bodies of the ghouls littered the ground; the stench of their death already starting to permeate the air. As he looked through the remains searching for his armor, he came across something he didn't want to see. Silas' broken body laying twisted and bloodied against the cold dirt.

"Oh, Silas..." he said with regret in his voice while bending down over the youth. "You had everything in life still in front of you. I'm sorry I couldn't have done more."

He straightened the younger warden legs and crossed Silas' arms over his chest. At least he looked peaceful, The Warden thought.

"I swear we'll give you a proper burial." He promised as he gently brought his hand down over Silas' face, closing the young warden's eyes forever.

With a much heavier heart, The Warden resumed his search. Upon finding his armor, he gathered the pieces up in his arms and headed back toward the castle, pausing for a moment to cast his glance one last time on his fallen ward. He hung his head, shaking it and blaming himself for what happened. It took all his strength to remain composed, but he was finally able to manage to convince his feet to take him back up the stairs and inside.

The Warden returned to his chambers, donned his armor, and slung his blades over his shoulders. He was about to attempt to will himself into the orb, when Morrigan gently grabbed his arm and said to him, "Be wary, my love. The Black Warden is a formidable foe, more so in his natural realm."

"I promise to be careful if you do." he quipped with a sly grin.

"Impossible man." she huffed.

The Warden closed his eyes and tried to focus himself inward, tuning out everything else around him. He quieted his mind and calmed himself, trying to hear the Taint and its constant song. Before long, he heard it. It was like a siren's call to him, always a part of him no matter where he went or what he did. It wasn't the Taint that made him special, but with it he could do special things.

He felt as if something was pulling on him, tugging him down a long dark tunnel. When he opened his eyes he found himself standing in the middle of a dry and dusty plain. Twisted and gnarled trees and bushes sprung up from the ground which was covered in patches of yellow grass. He knew instantly where he was. This was the Fade.

Beside him, an outline started to form. Slowly it came into focus, revealing the shape of a woman. It was his witch who had projected herself into the Fade as well, albeit by more magical means.

"He is here. I can feel it." Morrigan said.

"Yeah, but the question is: where?" her warden replied as his eyes scanned the area for any signs of the shade.

"Right behind you, Warden." a voice said.

The Warden turned to face the sound and was met by a sharp blow to his jaw, which sent him to the ground.

Morrigan quickly charged her spell and flung it at the apparition, but the shade simply dissolved around it, causing it to pass through him harmlessly. The Black Warden solidified himself once again, and moving as quick as lightning, charged the witch in a blur and struck her in the gut with a heavy fist.

"Oooff!" Morrigan let out as she fell backwards.

A loud laughter rang out and filled the air, "Oh, my. How I have waited for this." the dark form said as it flashed back and forth in order to make for an impossible target. "That fool priest should have let me kill you in the first place. But better late than never."

The Warden stood and pulled his blades from their sheaths. He channeled the blackness within and caused the swords to erupt with black flame. "You're not the only one who's been waiting." he said through his teeth. "You tried to destroy everything I love, and you almost succeeded. If it costs me my life, I will see you pay."

Thrusting his blades outward, The Warden shot his black fire forth, encircling the shade in a wall of dark flame. With a fierce cry, he charged the Black Warden and stabbed his swords between the flames, but the dark form simply allowed the deadly tips to pass through him, laughing the entire time.

"You'll have to do better than that." the Black Warden cackled and shot upwards, over and out of the fiery circle.

The shade whisked about back and forth, striking The Warden with each pass. Shadowy claws dug into The Warden's flesh with each blow, pummeling The Warden and driving him back. He tried in vain to knock the dark form away, but each time he swung his blades, the shade dodged, twisted, and evaded the attack. It was like fighting against a puff of smoke. Cold steel was useless against such a foe. He was going to need a new strategy.

The witch's efforts weren't yielding any better results. Each time she attacked with her magic, be it flame or bolt, the shade dissolved around it and the energy flew through, missing its target. And with each missed attempt, the Black Warden's laughter only grew louder, enraging both the witch and her warden.

"I grow tired of his mocking." Morrigan fumed.

"This isn't working. We need to contain him." The Warden replied, "Morrigan, can you put a barrier around him?"

The witch formed a ball of blue energy and hurled it at the shade. Again, the dark form tried to evade the magic as before, but Morrigan was not about to give up so easily. She guided the sphere as it chased its target through the air. The shadow duck and dove around scraggly trees and clumps of brown grass, while the magical ball pursued, closing the distance to its quarry.

"No!" the Black Warden cried out, "You will not have me!"

The shade shot straight up into the sky, with the small glowing orb closely pursuing. Morrigan's magic chased the dark form far up into the gray-hued sky, closing the gap on its prey, until, in a split-second, the sphere snatched the shade right out the air and gobbled him up.

"Got you, you little shit!" the witch blurted out which caused her warden to cast a curious glance in her direction.

"What?" she asked in an innocent tone.

"Nothing." he replied, shaking his head.

"Then finish this bastard quickly so that we may leave this place."

The smoke inside the small magical orb whirled around frantically, looking for any possible means of escape. Desperately, the Black Warden clawed and slammed against the walls of his prison, but he was unable to break free. He was trapped with no way out.

The Warden approached the hovering ball and raised his blades behind his head. He let out a cry and the black flames exploded from hardened steel, burning even darker and with a more intense blackness. "Let's see you dodge this." he said.

A muffled shriek of terror came from the imprisoned shadow as The Warden swung his blades downward onto the ball. Just as metal was about to come in contact with magic, Morrigan released her control and caused the orb to dissipate. Burning steel cleaved through smoke and the darkness of the tainted flame consumed the shade. The burning form of the Black Warden fell to the dirt, bubbling like some molten tar. The shrieks and cries of pain as the flame burned and cooked the black ooze grew quieter, until there was nothing left but a smoldering pile of ash left smoking on the ground.

"We are rid of him at last." the witch said while brushing a stray strand of hair from her face and going to stand next to her warden.

"I've never seen you hate anyone as much as you hated him."

"Need I remind you, he _stole_ our son." the witch remarked, folding her arms, "He received far better than he deserved, I assure you."

"I'll take your word for it. Either way, he's dead. Now let's get out of here."

"Agreed." the witch said with a hearty nod. "You shall go first, in case there is trouble and you require aid."

"Alright." The Warden said, not thinking it was very important who went first. And, as before, The Warden looked deep inside himself, focusing on the Taint that coursed through his veins and searched for its song. But instead, he heard a voice. A voice he recognized and hadn't heard it some time.

"Hello, Warden." the voice said from behind him.

"Wynne...?" he asked, whirling around to see the form of the elder mage standing before him.

"I see the spirits shall not leave us be." Morrigan grumbled.

"It's good to see you, Warden." the old mage said with a smile.

"How is this possible?" The Warden asked, still dumbfounded.

"That's not important, right now. If you really must know, I'm sure Morrigan can explain it to you later."

"It's great to see you Wynne. But why are you here? How did you know where to find us?"

"There's someone who wants to talk to you, Dwemer. I thought it only fitting that I bring you together."

"Who wants to talk to me?" The Warden asked, wary of any tricks or new trouble that might arise.

"We did, Pup." said another voice. In front of The Warden two more forms started appear. Soon, the outline of a man and woman came into focus. It was his father and mother who had long since been dead. They died the night of Lord Howe's betrayal at Castle Cousland more than three years earlier. Their deaths were the catalyst that sent his life on the path on which he now found himself.

"This is some sort of trick."

"It's no trick, Warden. I think you know that." Wynne said in her soft voice.

"_Please_, spirit. Don't do this to me." The Warden pleaded.

"Your parents?" the witch asked in an uneasy whisper.

"It's alright. Talk to them."

The Warden turned to face the other spirits, saying, "Mother...Father...I'm so sorry I couldn't save you. I tried..."

"Save us?" his mother asked as if surprised by his words, "Dwemer, dear, it was our job to save _you_."

"We couldn't be more proud of you, son." his father added, "You never forgot what we taught you."

"And now you have a son of your own, and a wife." his mother added.

Morrigan slipped behind her warden in an effort to hide from the spirits' view. She was comfortable with the fact that she would never have to meet his parents and face their sure disapproval of her. And now that she was in their presence, she was more nervous than she'd ever been before in her life.

"Don't hide, dear." his mother said in her motherly voice as she walked around behind her son, "Let's have a look at you."

Even though she was standing rigid in place, Morrigan's insides were squirming about while the spirit looked her over. "Well, you certainly are beautiful." his mother said, causing the witch to blush terribly.

"And strong-willed, too." his father added, "She's exactly the type of woman we always hoped you'd settle down with."

"Really?" The Warden asked with a puzzled look. "It doesn't bother you that she's a..."

"_Maleficar_?" his mother finished for him, "Oh, don't be ridiculous."

"Your mother and I just want you to be happy, Pup. That's all we've ever wanted."

"I miss you so much. Everyday I think of you." The Warden said as tears began to fill his eyes.

"You can't dwell in the past, son. You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders because you think you aren't worthy. Believe us when we tell you there aren't two parents more proud of their son than we are for the man you've become; in all Ferelden or the Fade." his father assured.

"But right now, Fergus needs you."

"Fergus? What's wrong?"

"He's been hurt, Dwemer, and he needs your help. Go to him." his mother said.

"I will." The Warden promised.

"We have to leave now, Pup. Take care of yourself."

"And our grandson. He'll grow up to change the world someday." his mother said, "And, Morrigan..."

"Yes...?"

"Would it kill you to wear just a bit more clothing? After all, you are a mother now."

"I...uh..." the witch stammered at a loss for words.

And before he was ready for them to be gone, they were. Vanished into thin air without a trace, leaving behind only the ghost of the elder mage. The Warden wiped his wet eyes with the back of his hands, brushing away the tears. "Thank you, Wynne." he said.

"After everything you've done, Warden, you deserved to know." the mage replied with her usual warm smile. "Now go. Take care of your brother before it's too late. We shall see each other again someday, I'm sure."

The Warden nodded to the spirit as it too faded from view and was gone.

"_Pup_?" Morrigan asked with a giggle when they were alone.

"Oh, shush." he groaned.

The pair then left the world of the Fade, she by her magic and he through the Taint. They returned to the realm of mortal men to find Alistair and Dyana waiting for them. She was kneeling over him trying to pick the locks that held his bounds, but without much success.

"Well, that didn't take you as long as I thought it would...everything turn out alight?" the king asked as he peered around his captain.

"Everything turned out just fine." The Warden answered as he cast a smile over to his witch, who returned it with one of her own.

Alistair's eyes went from The Warden to the witch and then back. He said, "Someone sure is chipper. What happened?"

"I'll tell you all about it later. Right now I have to get to Denerim."

"Denerim? What for?"

"Fergus needs my help. He's been hurt."

"How could you possibly know that? ...Oh, wait. Let me guess..._you'll tell me later_." the king said with more than a bit of smug sarcasm.

"We're all going."

"All of them?" the witch inquired, surprised they would have companions.

"I'm not leaving anyone behind. Besides, Denerim is where Alistair needs to be."

"Who shall look after the castle in our absence?"

"Leo can look after things until we return. Isn't that right, boy?" The Warden said as he gave Leo's head a good rub. "Besides, we won't be in Denerim long. We still have to get back to Redcliffe, remember?"

"Very well." Morrigan sighed, "If they are going, they will have to make sure their grip is secure. I'll not be turning back for anyone who should happen to slip."

"Not a problem."

"And there shall be _no_ saddles this time, am I understood?"

Suddenly, the kings eyes grew as large as sovereigns. "You're not saying what I think you're saying are you? You expect all of us to fly on Morrigan's back?"

"That's the plan."

"I think I'd rather stay here." Alistair groaned.

"It won't be bad. But we need to make a quick stop by the infirmary before we leave. We'll need bandages." The Warden said as he thought, "Morrigan, are there any of those restoring potions left?"

"A believe there are a few, but cannot be certain." she replied as he opened the door and the couple exited the room.

"_Hey_!" Alistair shouted, "Is anyone going to get me out of the damn shackles?"

The pair both stopped and turned back to face the king. "I think I prefer him this way." Morrigan said, slyly.

"You better free him, otherwise we'll never hear the end of it."

"As you wish." the witch relented and walked back over to where the king sat on the bed.

She extended her left hand and pointed a single finger at the lock holding Alistair's steel cuffs. A small bolt arced from the witch's fingertip and dove into the keyhole, causing the lock to pop apart and the cuffs sprang open, freeing the king's hands. He grasped his wrists and gave them each a good rub while the witch did the same do the shackles that bound his legs.

"Thank you." he said, glad to be free of his bindings at last, "I was beginning to think I was never going to get those off."

"Why, Alistair," the witch said in mock amazement, "you _can_ be civil at times. Will wonders never cease?"

"Ha-Ha" he said flatly, "Can we just go now?"

After gathering the necessary items from the infirmary, the group made their way back out to the courtyard, and to the scene of recent carnage. The Warden tried hard not to stare at the body of the young man that laid among the corpses of so many foul creatures, but he couldn't help it. Even after his witch had used her magic to heal herself enough to transform in a high dragon and beckoned the others to take their places, his eyes kept betraying him and his gaze never left young Silas who lay peacefully on the ground.

"'Twas no fault of yours, my love." the dragon said to her warden, "The boy died a good death, and for that you should be proud."

"That doesn't make it feel any better."

"The pain shall pass in time, as all things do." she replied as she shoved against the ground with her mighty clawed feet and propelled them all upward.

"Who is he talking to?" Dyana asked Alistair.

The sun was just starting to rise above the far horizon as Morrigan spread her leathery wings and soared high above the plains of the northern bannorn. The trip of nearly two hundred miles would take almost a four days on horseback, longer still by foot. But the witch was able to traverse the distance in a fraction of the time, arriving high above the city after only a few hours in the air. The sun was barely at it's midmorning height when the startled people below saw her large, black form in the sky.

Anxious archers, still on edge from having just battled hideous demons, notched their arrows and pointed them skyward. If not for Leliana and Zevran recognizing the witch, many of those arrows would have been let loose, although Morrigan was careful to remain high enough and out of their reach until her warden could be spotted by those on the ground.

Once they had landed and the witch returned to her human form, the group was surprised to see not only members of the royal army in the streets, but those of the Order as well. The ground was littered with the remains of men and ghoul, perhaps thousands of their rotting corpses were beginning to stink up the air. They noticed Bann Teagan directing men to gather up the bodies and dump them on large bonfires that were scattered throughout the city, with the Order's men doing most of the heavy lifting.

Before long, Leliana's smiling face was seen running down the street to where The Warden and his witch stood, followed by Zevran, who walked at a much more leisurely pace.

"I knew you would do it!" the bard squealed as she jumped into The Warden, embracing him in a large hug that knocked him back a few steps. "The creatures started dropping dead all over the city and I knew it because of you!"

"Where's Fergus?" he asked.

All the joy in Leliana's expression faded upon hearing the question, "He's at the royal palace...But Dwemer, you should know he's been hurt badly." she said with a somber look.

"Take me to him."

The bard obliged and led the party to the royal castle near the center of the city. Fergus was located in the most comfortable suite in the entire palace: the king's royal bed chambers. It was there that the teyrn laid in bed, motionless. The nurse who attended to his needs felt that any breath he drew might be his last. The party, now joined by the elf and the bard, entered the room where the teyrn had been lying still for days.

"Fergus..." The Warden muttered as he sat next to his brother on the bed. "Can you help him, Morrigan?"

"'Tis why we came, is it not?" the witch replied, "I shall see what can be done. All of you, leave me."

"You heard the lady." The Warden said to the others as they filed out of the room.

"You as well, my love."

"_Me_...?" he stammered, "But...but..."

"I shall need complete privacy."

"If you say so..." he mumbled as he rose from the bed and took his place with the others outside the door, which Morrigan closed behind him.

For many hours, he waited as he paced up and down the corridor while his witch tried to mend the teyrn back together. She had pieced his own battered body back together on more occasions than he could count. Her skillful hands and powerful magic could bring any man back from the brink of death, The Warden thought to himself. But it did little to alleviate the worry that gripped him. To everyone else, Fergus was the Teyrn of Highever, the highest ranking noble in Ferelden, other than King Alistair. But to The Warden he was much more than that. Fergus was his brother and the only member of his family left alive. He tried to convince himself that Morrigan had pulled him back from far worse in the past, but, as it has a way of doing, doubt kept creeping into his mind to increase his worry further.

The morning sun was replaced by the shadows of evening before Morrigan finally unlocked and opened the door to the bedchamber and stepped out, closing the door again behind her. "I have done all that I can." she said.

"How is he?" The Warden asked, both hopeful and terrified.

"You needn't worry. He shall survive." she replied.

"Thank you. For everything." he said as he threw his arms around the witch and held her close.

"I would do anything to prevent you further pain, my love. You have suffered enough." she returned softly, staring at him with her large golden eyes. "However, Fergus needs his rest. You will have to wait until morning to see him."

"I owe you so much. How can I ever repay you for all that you've done for me?"

"You owe me nothing. 'Tis I who am indebted to you." she said to him in the soft, loving voice that only he had ever heard her use. "We've been through a great deal, you and I. Yet your devotion to me never faltered. I could never in my wildest dreams have imagined such wonderful things as you have given me. I am truly fortunate, more so than I ever thought possible. I love you more today than ever before, yet not as much as I shall tomorrow."

"And all the tomorrows after that." he added.

"Indeed." Morrigan agreed.

The Warden leaned his lips closer to hers and kissed his witch with a deep passion that had never been seen on Ferelden before or since. She held him closer until the world around faded away and only they remained.


	36. Chapter 36

_Well, another story comes to an end. I hope you all enjoyed Black Warden. It was certainly much more challenging for me to write. But I guess I did that to myself more than anything. As before, I'm equally relieved and saddened that we've come to the conclusion of another tale. Whereas Orbs of Arastani was my first work ever, I had some experience under my belt with Black Warden, and I hope the story reflects that._

_Is this the last that I write of Morrigan and her warden? I don't know, to be honest. Writing these takes up a lot of my time, especially if I want to do it fast enough to keep anyone interested. I admit that a third installment is swirling around in my head as I type this, but whether or not it actually comes out, I don't know. It'd be interesting to see how Dwemer handles life without the huge weight on his shoulders anymore. But we'll have to see about that later. If you all want more, just let me know. I'd love to know what you think.  
_

_As always, many thanks to all of you for reading. I started writing with the intention of no one but me ever seeing it; just so I could complete the tale of The Warden and Morrigan for myself. But I'll admit, I've gotten attached to your reviews, emails, and PMs that seem to come at an increased rate by the day. I'm an attention whore, so I've gotten more than a bit attached to it. I love hearing from you guys, and your responses have been great._

_Alright, enough of my babbling. Let's get to the conclusion of Black Warden and to the steamy parts you've all been craving. As before, there's a short FAQ-ish thing at the end to help answer some of the questions I get most often about the story._

**Part XXXVI**

The ordeal was finally over. The Order of Bohlen had been defeated and could no longer threaten Ferelden. And more importantly for The Warden, they could never threaten his family again. The Order had taken his child, his home, Silas, and very nearly everything he had from him. Everything except Morrigan, that is.

Throughout it all, the witch had remained by his side, ever faithful to her warden. Even when things seemed most bleak, she was always there to make sure he stayed the course to the very end. As with the Blight and Flemeth before, The Warden surely would have failed if it wasn't for her support and aid. And now that their task was finished, he intended to honor his promise to her to retire and lay down his blades. At long last, the cottage that had become a symbol of the life they both so craved, yet couldn't seem to find a way to live, was going to be a home for him and his family.

Fergus was making a quick recovery, and in the days following the defeat of the Order, he was able to be moved back to Highever and Castle Cousland, where he could oversee the reconstruction of the village. General Regorda and his men surrendered themselves peacefully to the king's forces, and Alistair took their actions at Denerim into account before he passed sentence on them. Regorda and his officers would be held at Fort Drakon for no less than ten years and what was left of his army was ordered to be the main workforce in the rebuilding of that which they destroyed. Regorda accepted his fate with grace and dignity, thanking the king for his mercy and giving praise to the Maker above all things.

No one was ever sure about what became of the desire demon. By all accounts the creature simply vanished into the night, using the distraction of the fight at Castle Cousland to make her escape. The Warden continued to have a nagging feeling in his gut that he would meet the succubus again one day, whether for good or ill he couldn't be certain.

Leliana joined the elf, Zervran, and the pair set out together to seek their next adventure. She finally convinced herself that she could do more good with her blade than with her words, which is why she decided to leave the Chantry. Zevran simply couldn't stand sitting around for more than a few minutes at a time. The threat of a lull was the only excuse the elf needed to seek his fortune elsewhere.

To commemorate the victory, Alistair declared the day of the Order's defeat a national holiday; a day to remind the people of Ferelden what happened and who it was that was responsible for saving the country yet again. But even as the people celebrated, the task of cleaning up the many thousand dead remained. All across Ferelden the Order's faithful had taken part in the ritual of the Eye and had seen the Calling. On that night, few villages were spared the bloodshed and carnage that ensued. Many families were left to pick up the pieces of what was left of their lives. Even in victory, there are still many who lose, The Warden thought.

But The Warden wasn't going to let any of that trouble him any longer. While he still deeply cared for the people, he understood that sometimes people have to live their own lives, and it was time for him to start living his. The weight of the entire world was lifted from his shoulders when his parents had given their approval of both him and Morrigan. He no longer felt like he had anything left to prove. He told Fergus about his meeting with their parents, and for the first time in a great while the two brothers shared a moment of joy.

The only thing that was left for The Warden to do was perhaps the hardest task of all: bury Silas. The young warden was laid to rest on the castle grounds, near where the tomb that honored The Warden's mother and father. The day of the funeral was sunny and bright, yet dark clouds hovered over The Warden's heart and he grieved for Silas and all the wasted opportunities.

"Do not be saddened, my love." Morrigan told her warden as they made their way back into the main building. "Instead, you should be proud."

"Proud? What is there to be proud of?" he asked in return.

"Silas was a brash and foolish young man. He had lead a spoiled and sheltered life until it was taken away from him. Without your guidance who knows what would have become of him? In the end, however, he sacrificed himself to save us. And in so doing, showed that he possessed the best qualities of you. Your efforts were not in vain."

"I always knew he could be more than he was, if only he let himself."

"And in the end, 'tis exactly what he did." Morrigan consoled as she wrapped her arm around her husband's, holding onto it tightly.

Alistair and Dyana had traveled back with The Warden to Highever to attend Silas' funeral and were waiting for The Warden inside the castle. The king and his captain had gotten quite close to one another during the previous weeks and were now quite the couple. Both Alistair and Dyana frequently sought the advice of The Warden and his witch when it came to matters of their relationship. Advice The Warden and Morrigan were all to willing to give, even if it was something the lovebirds didn't actually want to hear, or know.

"You know you're in for some big changes, right?" The Warden asked his friend as the two men stood in the atrium alongside Morrigan and Dyana, with the witch holding Seth's hand as he stood next to her.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, as you two start to settle in and get comfortable with each other, she's going to turn into a different person." The Warden replied, drawing a glare from his witch that said _You had best be extremely careful with your next words_.

"I don't understand." Alistair said, confused.

The Warden returned his witch's scowl with a sly grin, saying, "Oh sure, now she gets herself all prettied up for you and she seems like the perfect person in every way...and then it happens."

"What happens?" the king asked, obviously concerned.

"The _questions_ start coming. That's when you know things are headed in a different direction altogether."

"What sort of questions?"

"At first they're innocent enough. Things like: do I look pretty? Or, did you notice what I've done to may hair?"

"Then what happens?"

"The questions get different. One day you're minding your own business when suddenly she's standing in front of you naked and bent over, asking, 'What is this on my arse?'."

"_Dwemer_!" the witch cried out as she gave his shoulder a good whack. "And I suppose you have remained the perfect gentlemen?"

"Of course I have." he said with a large grin.

"I shall remember that the next time I see you with your finger crammed so far up your nose one would think you are trying to snatch your brain from your skull."

"A man's gotta be able to breath, right?" he said, looking toward the king who's expression had changed to one of uncertainty.

"Uh..." was all Alistair could say.

"Anyway, I think Morrigan and I are going to call it a day." he finished as he and the witch exited the atrium arm-in-arm, leaving both the king and the captain standing there staring at each other with uneasy faces.

"You are an evil man, do you know that?" Morrigan whispered to her warden as they walked down the corridor to their chambers. "Telling them such things as that. You'll have poor Alistair tied up in knots. And knowing you, 'twas entirely on purpose."

His only reply was the smile he beamed back at her.

"As I said...evil." the witch said, shaking her head and smiling. "It does make me wonder, however, does it really bother you so that I've grown comfortable around you?"

"Not at all." he answered confidently. "It means that you feel safe around me and that you trust me. I wouldn't change that for anything."

Back in their chambers, Morrigan laid Seth in his bed and prepared to put him down for the night. As she pulled the blankets over him she sung a soft lullaby. The tenderness in her voice soothed the child until he was fast asleep. The witch leaned down and kissed her son on his forehead, "I love you, my darling. And I shall tell you as much everyday until you understand what you mean to me." she whispered and turned to face her warden, saying, "And to you as well."

"I love you, too, my beautiful, golden-eyed witch." he replied as he took her in his arms and kissed her passionately.

They stood there for long minutes entwined in each others arms; his tender kiss showing her the depth of his devotion, which she received without shame and returned to him. She pulled away from him only long enough to take his hand and lead him to the bed. Once there, the couple resumed their kissing as he reached down and pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor beside the bed. He slipped her skirt down and she stepped out of it, his face mere inches from her treasure.

Morrigan laid down on the bed naked and invited her warden to join her, saying with a coy grin "Come, my love. Let us make this a night to remember. And from our joining a child shall be born."

"I've heard that before." he said as he cocked his head to the side.

"Indeed you have. Only this time I shall still be here when you awaken. I am yours completely, now and forever."

He quickly removed his clothes and climbed over his witch. He kissed her behind her ear and trailed his lips down her neck, greatly enjoying her moans of ecstasy as goosebumps raised over her entire body. His mouth found each breast in turn, caressing them gently with his hands as his mouth brought each nipple to a stiff and excited peak. He pursed his lips and blew on their wet tips, causing Morrigan to grab the headboard with her hand while she writhed in delicious agony. His kisses went ever lower, until he found her center. And with his skilled tongue he pleasured her as she arched her hips, desperately trying to grind against to him. Her hand went to the back of his head and pressed him closer, as her moans of pleasure grew deeper. And just when the witch could stand no more sweet torture, he rose back above her, sliding his large muscled frame between her legs and slid himself inside her, claiming her treasure for his own.

His thrusts rocked her back and forth amid the sheets while her hands wrapped around him, with her nails digging deep into his back. Her eyes met his as each was moved by the pleasure being given and received. The fire inside Morrigan's belly began to burn out of control and she was caught up in wave after wave of searing ecstasy as his movements pushed her over the edge, and beyond. The witch lost total control and she succumb willingly to the passion they shared.

His movements became faster and more intense, with each of his thrusts slapping against her. She felt him dive deeply inside her one final time before her loins felt the familiar gooey warmth of his climax. He sheathed himself as deeply as he could, releasing every last bit of himself. When it was over, he put his mouth against her neck, softly nuzzling it between his winded breaths before finally rolling over to the side and collapsing next to her, totally spent.

"That was definitely worth the wait." he gasped, his body covered in sweat. "Thank you."

"You have my thanks as well. 'Tis evident your talents are not lacking, even though you've not had a chance to use them." she purred as she turned on her side to face him.

"You're not half bad yourself." he returned, smiling.

She cuddled up next to her warden and drifted off in his strong arms. Never more in her life had Morrigan felt more safe and secure. As she slept, the witch dreamed of a distant time. A time when both she and her warden were crowned with gray hair and were entertained by their children, and their children's children. It was a future that the witch would have never even considered for herself not so long ago. But with him by her side, anything was possible.

When she was younger, Flemeth taught her that true strength lie in magic and the power one gains from it. Only the strong survive and the weak must be culled like the lowly animals they were. At first glance, one would have thought the witch had done Flemeth proud. Morrigan had married the most powerful and respected man in Ferelden, who just so happened to be a member of one of the highest houses in the land. And in the process, the witch became nobility, herself. But all of that was meaningless to her anymore. She would be with her warden even if they were forced to live in Dust Town, the slums of the casteless in Orzammar. All that mattered to her was what they had together and the road that lay ahead. Ferelden has a long history of violence. But at least for the time being, she and her warden could live in peace and happiness.

The End.

_Well, there it is. Another tale in the life of The Warden and his witch comes to a close. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It was certainly a labor of love, especially near the end as my free time grew less and less. I found myself writing this at all sorts of odd hours just so I could complete it. And, as promised, a few quick answers to some of the more common questions I get about the stories._

_Q; Why do you capitalize "The" every time you mention "The Warden"? Isn't that bad grammar?_

_A: Because, as I mentioned in the story, he's not just any Grey Warden. I treat it like it's a part of his name. And really it is._

_Q: Why did you make everyone so old?_

_A: I didn't. Bioware did. The character's ages in the stories are based on their ages in the game. Although none are explicitly mentioned, with a little digging it's not hard to find out how old they are. _

_Wynne is in her early sixties at the time of BW, which is probably the most obvious of all the characters. _

_Leliana is the oldest of the core group; in her early forties. Her age comes the closest to being mentioned in the game. When Wynne tells her she got her first apprentice about twenty years ago, when she was close to Leliana's age. _

_Alistair is the youngest, not quite thirty as of this writing. Again, clues from the game are what I used to determine his age. _

_Morrigan, however, was a different story. I actually had to do some research on that and through one of the writers at Bioware I was informed that she was always meant to be in her late twenties or early thirties. They decided to go with the latter to keep her in line with Claudia Black's age, who was in her mid thirties when she recorded Morrigan's voice._

_Dwemer is five years younger than Fergus, who's son was close to ten years old at the start __of Origins. That would comfortably place Fergus in his mid to late thirties at the start of the game. Which makes sense given his appearance, crows feet and all._

_Q: Was the wedding ceremony really that hard?_

_A: Yes. It is still the hardest thing I've had to write so far. Mainly because in medieval times, weddings as we know them didn't exist yet. It was a totally different process. I had to research a good bit and the closest I could find was an article pertaining to an early renaissance ceremony that I borrowed heavily from. _

_Until we meet again my faithful readers. Take care._


End file.
